Strange Brew
by Magnolia822
Summary: Soon-to-be college senior Bella Swan needs a summer job. Edward Cullen needs a worker for his new tasting room at Cullen Creek Brewery. She doesn't know much about beer, but she knows how to push his buttons. Romance/Humor, ExB
1. Hangover

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns everything Twi-related. Yep, by law... even the ff. It's sad but true. This disclaimer stands for all subsequent chapters as well. **

**A/N. I'd like to extend a huge fangirly welcome to Mac214, who has agreed to beta this story. I'm incredibly indebted to her for her thoughtful insights and skillful editing. I can't thank you enough, Mac. My darling DiamondHeart78 also beta'd this chapter and continues to pre-read. Thanks bb! **

**Some changes have been made below. Read on, gentle reader. **

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"**Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy." –Benjamin Franklin**

**Chapter One: Hangover**

"What the fuck do you mean the hops've gone off, Emmett?"

It's seven o'clock in the morning on a Tuesday—way too early for this shit. And it's kind of an emergency since we have a giant batch of sweet wort ready for the boil, and if we don't have hops, we won't have beer. It's already mid-April, and we're in the middle of making our summer Three Frog IPA, one of Cullen Creek's most popular brews. We still need to boil, ferment, condition, and mature the mash, and we only have two months. This should've been taken care of weeks ago.

"Yeah, man. Fuck." Emmett's scratching his head like a dumbass. I love my brother, but he's really fucked up this one.

"I thought you just bought that shit from Petersburg... good, fresh hops, you told me."

"That's what Rick said, I'm telling you."

"And we had it in the freezer?"

"Yes. Dammit, I had no reason to think it'd gone bad. I didn't even know hops could do that."

I glare at him, and he takes a step backwards. "They can."

"Well, shit. I'll get him on the phone, Edward."

"Yeah, do that," I snap, grabbing a handful of what should be small, green leaves—they're spotted and brown. Yep, it's moldy. No way that shit is going in my beer.

The brewery floor is pretty dirty, and I make a mental note to have Seth clean things up later today. I didn't expect everything to fall apart in the two days I'd been gone.

It's been busy, especially with the expansion and the new tasting room. We've got new contracts coming in, more sellers wanting to distribute our beer, and that's meant a lot of work. Not that I mind; there's nowhere I'd rather be. It's stressful as hell, though, especially at this point in my life.

At least the new tanks are installed and running. Now we have six, which means we've almost doubled our production in the past two months. Still, we're nowhere ready for our May first opening. I want everything running smoothly on the first day the facility is open to the public.

What I really need is someone to work the taps in the tasting room, but we haven't had any luck yet. Burlington is a college town, and all the kids who've come in have been either unqualified or underage. I'd really like to hire somebody who's worked in the business. Of course personality is important too, but the person we hire for the tasting room should be, first and foremost, someone who knows and appreciates beer.

I toss the hops back into the sack and dust my hands off on my pants, still grumbling in disgust as I exit the storeroom. Emmett better be getting medieval on Rick Chafferty's ass when I get back to the front office. When I walk in, I catch the tail end of the conversation—way too civil.

"Okay... okay. No later than tomorrow. Alright, man. Thanks." He hangs up the phone and turns to me, looking sheepish. Even though Emmett has a good four inches on my 6'2," he's still my little brother.

"It's all good. He's giving us a full refund and a new supply. They'll even deliver—tomorrow by two at the latest."

I do a quick calculation in my head and it seems alright... we've still got time before we need to boil.

"Okay, but shit, Emmett. This can't happen again. We've gotta stay on top of things now, you know? If one thing goes wrong, everything does. You know this—"

"I know, I know. I should've checked before. I just never..."

"Yeah, okay." I'm too tired to be mad at him, and I slump down in my chair, rifling through the piles of bills and invoices that've built up over the past couple days

"You know what we need?" he asks. "Coffee. Like, a shit-ton of coffee. I'll tell Jazz to bring some over when he comes."

"Sounds good." Jasper is the bartender at our pub in town and also a longtime friend. He's also a fantastic handyman and has been helping out with the renovations over the past couple months. His contracting experience has saved us thousands of dollars, especially since his connections have gotten us discounts on building materials. I owe him big. Emmett pulls out his cell and dials Jasper as I sit and consider the mess in front of me... the mess of my life.

"And how 'bout some food? You hungry?"

I shake my head and wave him off, but then I'm distracted by a note for payroll stuck on the cork board near my desk.

"Who the hell is Isabella Swan?" I ask as he flips his phone shut.

"Oh... I forgot to tell you. She's the new hire for the taproom. Came in on Friday just after you left. She's a cute girl... perfect for the job."

I'm surprised and more than a little irritated he's hired someone without my approval, especially since he seems to have done so for all the wrong reasons. We need more than just a pretty face to flirt with customers.

"Oh yeah? What kind of experience does she have?"

"She was a waitress down at Newton's..." His voice trails off.

"A waitress? A fucking waitress, Em?" I knew it. He's gone and fucked this up, and now I'm going to have to deal with this bullshit.

"She's not just a waitress. She goes to Saint Mike's. She's just finishing up her junior year."

St. Michaels is the Catholic school in town. So not only is she a waitress and a college student, but she's probably a stuck-up, religious prude as well. I groan and shake my head.

"Are you kidding me? You've gotta be kidding me." I can't have a girl like that work the taps; I need someone that customers can relate to, someone laid back with a knowledge of beer... someone who can sell the product and help people have a good time. This girl will probably end up preaching about the dangers of overindulgence while she's working, which will go over _real_ well.

"Dude, relax. I swear, you're gonna have a heart attack before you're thirty if you keep getting stressed out over shit like this." Emmett crosses his arms and stares me down. "We needed to hire someone to work the tasting room, and now we have."

My jaw clenches, and I glare at the paperwork on my desk. He seems determined, which worries me even more.

He huffs out an exasperated breath. "I know exactly what you're thinking. You're wrong. She's a cool chick. Hot too. Not at all what you're thinking a Catholic chick'll be like."

Even though I can tell he's annoyed with me for worrying about his piss-poor judgment, he's smirking. Maybe she really won't be so bad, but still.

"Sure, but does she know anything about beer?"

"She drinks it," he jokes, and, not for the first time today, I want to punch him.

"_Shit._ And you told her she was hired?" This just confirms my original fear. She's gonna need extensive training and we only have two weeks. Damn, Emmett.

"Yep. She's coming in today to fill out her paperwork and get shown around."

"And who the hell has the time to do that? I have a vat of wort stuck in the tun, and we're bottling the Hefeweizen today. I have all this damn paperwork to take care of..."

"See? This is what I mean. Look at you." Emmett gestures towards me and sighs in frustration. "Ever since Victoria left you've been an uptight prick. You need to relax. Things are getting taken care of. The bottler is working fine; you don't need to supervise that shit. Seth, Garrett, and Ben'll be in to help with packing. And I'm here. Jasper is too. Just chill."

"I don't have time to teach this chick about beer," I protest, but he's right... I'm sounding more and more like an asshole every damn day. Victoria's gone but she still has my balls in her hand.

"Believe me," he assures with a smirk, "when you see her, you'll make the time."

"Emmett..."

"Dude, I know you're going through a rough patch right now with the divorce. But it wouldn't hurt you to have a little fun."

"God, is that why you hired this girl? For me to fuck? You're a shady pimp."

He shakes his head, but his grin gives him away. He's a pimp _and_ a shitty liar.

"Well, when's the last time you got laid?"

Victoria left four months ago, but even before then, we hadn't been on the best of terms, and our sex life had faded to pretty much zero. Before we were married, there was never a lack of willing females, but now... I wasn't exactly the best company. And there's no way I'd ever get involved with someone who worked for me. There's definite truth in the saying "you shouldn't shit where you eat."

My silence is apparently funny. Emmett's laughing his ass off.

"Exactly. Listen, just give her a chance. She's a nice girl—seriously. And if she doesn't do well, you can fire her."

"I'd rather hire someone qualified in the first place," I grumble.

"She'll catch on fast."

"That remains to be seen."

Emmett punches me in the shoulder before he heads out to the floor, and I sit down at my desk again. My head is pounding. Since I had to drive home from Montpelier early this morning, I hadn't had more than four hours of sleep. Victoria, of course, insisted on a nine a.m. meeting on Monday, and so I'd spent the past twenty-four hours meeting with lawyers, seeing my bitchy soon-to-be-ex wife, and getting drunk off my ass in a shitty bar in the capital of Vermont.

It was the first time I'd seen her since she left back in January, and it pissed me off how good she looked; I'm sure I looked like hell. And there she was, playing the victim, as always. I could see right through her passive-aggressive bullshit, but I wondered if the judge would. That was Jenks' main concern. Our family lawyer didn't exactly specialize in divorce proceedings, but his retainer was reasonable. And right now, with all my money invested in the expansion, I couldn't afford much else.

"Coffee?" Jasper's voice interrupts my thoughts, which is probably a good thing. I take the cup gratefully, removing the lid and blowing before taking a tentative sip. The dark roast is just what I need. Perfect.

"Thanks, man."

"So, how was the she-devil?"

"How the hell do you think?"

"That bad, huh?"

"Worse."

Jasper sighs and takes a seat in the chair opposite me, leaning back and kicking his feet up on Emmett's desk. If it were mine, I'd tell him to get his dirty-ass boots off, but since it's Emmett's and he's annoying me, I don't.

"So, you probably don't want to talk about it."

"Nope." I take another swig of my coffee, then replace the lid.

"I hear that. Okay then—what's on the agenda today?"

"Apparently, Emmett hired a new girl for the taproom... Isabella something-or-other."

"Swan."

"What?"

"Her name is Bella Swan. She used to work down at Newton's before they closed. You don't remember?" Jasper picks up a pencil and starts drumming it against his cup in an irritating rhythm. "Cute girl, brown hair. Used to work nights."

I wrack my brain, trying to conjure an image of her face, but I can't. I shake my head. But then something else occurs to me.

"You knew about this shit?"

"Yeah, I was here when he hired her."

"Traitor."

"Aww, come on. Bella's a cool girl, and she's friends with Alice."

"And that's a recommendation?" Even though she and Jasper have been together forever, Alice Brandon continues to annoy the living crap out of me. She's okay at times, but when she started to talk about decorating the taproom in mauves and neutral tones, I almost lost it.

"Dude, shut up."

"Kidding."

"Sure."

"I am. But seriously, how does Alice know her?" Like Jasper and me, Alice is 29. This girl Bella can't be more than 21 or 22 if she's a junior in college.

"Alice was her T.A, if you can believe that."

"Isn't that illegal?"

"They weren't dating, idiot," he says with a laugh. "Alice T.A.'d for Bella's Art History seminar last year, and they kinda became friends. And then, once she was out of the class, they started hanging out. I'm surprised you don't know who she is. You used to go to Newton's all the time."

Yeah, I did. With Victoria. It was the only place in town open 24/7, so after Cullen Creek closed, we'd go over for a late night burger or slice of pie, whatever. Victoria loved the fucking place and was crushed when it shut down at the end of last summer. Just another reason why she didn't want to stay in Burlington, perhaps.

"Hmmm. But isn't she a little young?"

"Age is just a number, man. And you know, I think Bella's a little older than the average undergrad, maybe 23 or 24. I don't know. You'll have to ask her," he says, gesturing behind me.

"What are you talking about?"

"She's right outside."

"Fuck." I'm feeling more than a little creepy for talking about this girl for the last half hour without even knowing who she is. I also feel strangely nervous. What the fuck?

I turn around and glance out the two-way mirror behind my desk. It looks out into the new tasting room, but from the other side it just looks like a regular mirror. Emmett suggested we do this so we could observe customer interactions and generally keep an eye on things without actually having to be out there. It had sounded like a pretty good idea at the time.

But this girl doesn't know that, and she's staring at the mirror like she can see right through it. Frankly, it's a little unnerving how her eyes seem focused on me, even though I know it's impossible. They're a deep shade of brown—dark chocolate—and her forehead is slightly furrowed as if she's considering something. Suddenly, I feel self-conscious, and I push the chair back from the desk.

Then she pats her hair and bares her teeth, wrinkling her nose, and I almost laugh out loud. She's checking herself out in what she thinks is the mirror. She'd probably die of embarrassment if she knew we were back here. Jasper chuckles behind me.

"Man, you've gotta put a sign up or something. That's just wrong."

"And miss out on all this?" I ask.

"You really are an asshole."

"Hey! It was Emmett's idea."

"Riiiiiight."

"Well, I guess I better go and meet her."

"I guess."

Jasper's smirking at me, but I ignore him, taking my coffee in hand and opening the office door. As I round the corner, the girl startles a bit but then stands up tall. It's still not too warm out, and she's wearing tight jeans and a relatively form-fitting t-shirt underneath a black, unzipped hoodie. Her dark hair is pulled back in a ponytail.

"Hi." Her voice is a little breathless, probably because I've startled her.

"Hi."

"I'm Bella Swan," she says, extending her hand. "I'm here for the tasting room job."

"Yes. You met my brother, Emmett. I'm Edward Cullen." I take her offered hand and shake it; she's wearing several large, silver rings, and I notice one has an infinity symbol. Interesting. At least it's not a crucifix. Her grip is firm, but her hand is soft.

"Hi," she says again. "Nice to meet you. He told me to come at 8:30 on Tuesday... is that right?"

"Well... yes. That's what he told you."

"So... it's right? Or it's not?" She cocks her head quizzically, studying me with those wide, clear eyes.

"It's right. I was away this weekend when Emmett hired you."

"Yeah, that's what he said. He told me to come in today to fill out my W-4 and the rest of the paperwork... and he said you'd show me around." She's standing there, waiting for me to answer.

"Well, Emmett doesn't know what the hell he's talking about half the time. That's something you'll figure out working here. But I should tell you...I'm the boss. I'm the one who does the hiring, the firing, the everything. But I don't do the showing around."

"Okay..." she says, still looking at me with those eyes. And suddenly I have no idea what I'm talking about...am I saying she's not hired? She glances down at the floor, and I'm struck by how young she is; Jasper's full of shit—this girl is no more than 21, tops. I wonder if Emmett checked her birth certificate before he hired her. The last thing I need is an underage girl selling beer on my payroll.

"So...I'm not hired." She lifts her head again, the statement more of an accusation than a question. I feel like a complete dick—not the first time today. It's not her fault my brother is an unthinking idiot.

"No," I say, trying to backpedal. "I just need to know you're qualified for the job. I'm really looking for someone who'll be able to interact with the customers, teach them about beer, make them love ours, and want to buy it."

"I can do that," she says clearly.

"What do you know about beer, Bella?" I can't hide my skeptical tone, but instead of being daunted, she looks me right in the eye.

"If I'm being honest, not much. But I'm a fast learner and if you'll train me, I'll be fucking awesome at this job." She claps her hand over her mouth, just like kids do when they realize they've just said a dirty word. It's pretty funny. I can't help laughing a little.

"Bella, please. I'm not your dad."

"Sorry. Just a instant reaction to authority figures," she says, dropping her hand. It goes on a little journey up her thigh to clench at her side. It's interesting, this combination of nervousness and bravado.

"I'm an authority figure?"

"I don't know," she says, her voice holding the hint of a challenge. "Are you my boss?"

I hesitate just for a second, distracted by her impatient foot-tapping. She's got her hands on her slim hips, waiting for my answer. I take a slow sip of my coffee.

"Well, I'm no one you need to worry about swearing in front of, for the love of God." I sigh heavily and stare at her. "Listen, I need someone dependable to help us get the tasting room off the ground. Our distribution is widening, and it's important to show a positive, knowledgeable face to the public. We open in two weeks. Before that happens, you have to learn everything about our products and everything about the manufacturing process."

"Okay," Bella interjects, but I keep talking. I have no idea why I'm suddenly so willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, but I lay it all out for her.

"I'm a pretty big asshole, but if you can deal with me, and learn all the shit you need to learn, you've got the job. Do you think you're up for the challenge?"

She looks me right in the eye, a slight smirk spreading over her face. "I think I might fucking be."

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**Thoughts are appreciated ;)  
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	2. First Taste

**A/N. I'd like to extend a huge fangirly welcome to Mac214, who has agreed to beta this story. I'm seriously indebted to her for her thoughtful insights and amazing editing. My darling DiamondHeart78 also beta'd this chapter and continues to pre-read this story.**

**The chapter below has been rewritten from EPOV, as will the rest of the story.  
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"**A fine beer may be judged with only one sip, but it's better to be thoroughly sure."-Czech Proverb**

**Chapter 2: First Taste**

Her answer surprises me a little, and I stand back, blinking to collect myself and taking another sip of coffee. This girl isn't what I expected, not at all... for one, she's obviously not the uptight, prissy chick I'd imagined her to be. I've met my fair share of Saint Mike's girls, and a good majority of them are privileged enough to never have to work a damn day of their college education. If this one is willing to put up with my admittedly shitty attitude, she must really need the job.

Her confident smile falters a little under my gaze, and she blushes and looks away. There's something about making this girl squirm I find perversely enjoyable.

"Well... _fucking _okay then," I say, smirking a little and leaning back on the bar.

"So. Where do we start?" she asks.

"We start with paperwork. You need to fill out some shit. Then, if you're not busy, you can stick around and kind of observe what goes on. I'm gonna be pretty busy today, so I don't have a lot of time for show-and-tell."

"How am I supposed to learn then?"

She regards me carefully, just a hint of a scowl on her face. She does have a point. And fuck if I'm not going to show her myself. This place is my baby, and I need to make sure she can handle it.

"I'm sure we can figure something out, Bella. But first things first—you're not underage, are you?" She sure looks it.

"I'm 22. I'll be 23 in September." Yep. Young, but not as bad as I feared—older than most college juniors. I wonder what the story is behind that.

"Okay, good. Just sit tight for a minute. I'll be right back. Try not to damage anything while I'm gone." Her mouth hangs open just for a second, and I retreat to the office to get the tax information. Jasper lounges in Emmett's chair sipping his coffee.

"This is entertaining," he remarks, gesturing towards the window. "Better than TV."

"What?"

"This whole thing... very interesting."

"You're a moron," I reply, grabbing the folder from my desk. "Don't you have work to do?"

"I love you too, Edward."

It's early in the morning, but the first thing I need to determine is whether Bella has a good enough palate to be an informative salesperson. I select a couple of our freshly-bottled spring seasonal varietal and head back out to the tasting room, where I find her sitting at the bar inspecting the place.

Even though Alice Brandon had wanted to decorate, I'd gone with my original instincts and kept the whole thing neutral and, I like to think, classy. The wood paneling on the walls flanking the bar is all oak, and the bar itself is mahogany; the room still smells like fresh veneer. On the far wall we've installed a beer cooler and shelving to sell merchandise with the Cullen Creek brand logo. All of our beer is made with filtered Vermont spring water, and my mother came up with the river and mill design as a simple and clean reflection of our philosophy and promise to use local, natural ingredients.

The wall directly across from the bar is glass, giving customers a glimpse of the inner workings of the brewery. Though we'll be giving tours, this way visitors can see some of the operations without going on one. We've also included some high top tables for extra seating in case the bar is full. All in all, things have turned out well.

I stride over to where Bella sits, grabbing a couple coasters and setting the beers down on them.

"A little early in the day, isn't it?" she asks, eyeing the bottles.

"Consider this the beginning of your education," I reply, popping open the tops and sliding one over to her. "This is White Rabbit, our spring Hefeweisen. Just bottling today, so it's nice and fresh." I take a swig, pausing a second with the beer in my mouth to taste it fully, then swallowing before inhaling deeply. It's perfect.

"White Rabbit?"

"Jefferson Airplane. And spring... you know... rabbits." I raise my eyebrow in an attempt to get the meaning across without actually saying it.

"Ahhh..." The realization makes her blush, and she looks flustered for a second before she composes herself. "So, Jefferson Airplane reference. How old _are_ you?"

"Old enough. Why, you don't approve?"

"No, it's cool. My dad loves that band." _Ouch._

"This is our lightest beer," I say, changing the subject back to the task at hand. "Alcohol's only 4 percent... go ahead. Try."

Her lips pucker around the opening of the bottle and she takes a respectable gulp. Her mouth looks soft... pink, and I find it difficult to look away even though it's highly inappropriate for me to notice.

"What do you taste?" I ask.

"It's good. Fresh."

Not a great start—she's definitely going to have to work on being more descriptive if she's going to run tastings. 'Good' and 'fresh,' aren't descriptive enough. Take another sip, and hold it in your mouth a little," I instruct her.

Bella follows my directions while I try not to stare. "Now," I say, "swallow and inhale. Tell me what flavors you taste."

She looks thoughtful. "Banana or... orange..."

Much better. Now we're getting somewhere. "Good. What else?"

She takes another sip, swishing the beer for a second and repeating the process. "Cloves?"

That's exactly what she should notice, and I nod encouragingly. "Yes. That's right. You have a pretty good palate. Now. Describe the body... the feel of it in your mouth. Is it light, heavy, or in-between?"

Bella smiles a little, but the color returns to her cheeks. Maybe this girl isn't as bold or mature as she tries to be.

"It's... medium... or light... medium-light... pretty fizzy."

"That's the wheat. We make White Rabbit in the German style. Hefe means half. It's half-wheat, half-barley. Now, does it taste bitter at all?"

"No, not really."

"That's because it doesn't contain much hops... hops are what make beer bitter. They also give it flavor."

My tone might be a tad condescending, since she reacts testily.

"I knew that."

I'm not trying to be patronizing, but she doesn't know the basics of beer manufacturing yet.

"Fair enough." I retreat behind the bar, retrieving a Weis beer glass from the cupboard below and handing it to Bella. Now I need to see whether she knows anything about serving. "Pour."

"The beer?" she asks, confused.

"Yes, the beer."

"Right. Sorry. I'm just not used to drinking so early in the morning."

"Bella," I murmur, "I thought you were a college student. Don't tell me we have to work on your tolerance, too."

"I _am_ a college student, but I haven't had breakfast. I usually wait till,' I don't know, at least ten or eleven to start knocking them back." She rolls her eyes and I almost laugh... she's feisty. Still, I make a mental note to bring some food next time, since she clearly needs it to absorb the alcohol.

Then, she picks up her bottle and starts emptying it directly into the glass resting on the bar. Before I can stop myself, I'm yelling, "No, no, no! NO!" Bella looks startled as my hand covers her small one, prying the bottle from her grip.

"Sorry?"

"You can't just pour it in like that. You'll lose all the carbonation and create way too much head." I peer into the glass with disgust, eyeing all the foam. She's trying to ruin my beautiful beer. "You have to tilt the glass. Here, like this."

I demonstrate by emptying the glass into the sink behind the bar and holding it up at a 45-degree angle before pouring slowly. When I'm finished, there's about an inch of foam on the top of the beer and the rest is a golden, cloudy color. I set it down in front of her with a flourish.

"Never pour directly into the bottom of the glass. Okay? You need to do it slowly, and there should never be more than an inch of head."

"Okay, jeez," she whispers under her breath. It's not that I can't handle back talk, but if she wants this job she has to do it right. Her nonchalance about pouring the beer pisses me off.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"I'm sorry if you think this is absurd, Bella. But some of the people who'll be coming in here know a lot about beer, and they'll know if you pour it the proper way. It's those kinds of details that will make them take us seriously—or not. I need someone who'll pay attention and do things the way they need to be done."

She seems a little taken aback but nods.

"Good." Her assent placates me a little, but some of my earlier reservations have returned. Something about her demeanor, though, makes me want to give her another chance. "Okay. Now, where were we?"

"Bella, how's everything going?" We both turn at the sound of Jasper's voice. I hadn't noticed him come in. "Is this guy treating you okay?"

"Hey, Jasper," Bella says. "I didn't know you were here. Yeah, everything's fine."

"Well, from the looks of it, he was about to tear your head off. I thought I'd come in to monitor the situation."

"From the looks of it?" she asks quizzically. Jasper gestures to the mirror at the far wall, and I sigh, remembering Bella's earlier spot check. Her face registers her dawning understanding, but she takes it in stride.

"Oh, he hasn't done too much damage," she assures him.

"Yet." Jasper grins at her, his tone teasing.

I clear my throat loudly, annoyed he's sidetracking the training and they're discussing me like I'm not even in the room.

"Sorry." Jasper holds up his hands in surrender. "Was I interrupting something?"

"We were just starting Bella's training."

"Training. Oh. I see. Well, I'll leave you to that then." Jasper gives Bella a wink, and I groan. "Bella," he says before leaving, "you coming around later?"

"Yeah, I'll be there," she confirms. Strange that Jasper seems to know her so well, especially since he's never said anything to me about her before today. Then again, I haven't been the best friend lately with all this Victoria crap going on.

"Alright. Edward, the guys are here, and Paul's coming by in an hour. We're gonna start loading."

"Sounds good. Thanks. I'll be out in a minute. And hey, if you see Seth will you send him in here? I'd like him to show Bella around." Seth knows the brewery like the back of his hand, so I trust him to show her the ropes.

"Will do. Later, Bella."

"Later."

"What's that all about?" she asks.

"What? Paul? He's one of our Vermont distributors. He's here for this stuff," I say, holding up the bottle of Hefe. "He's the one who sells it to the stores."

"Why can't you do that?"

I come around from behind the bar and stand next to her, taking a sip of my beer. She's short; I must have a foot on her. And she smells good underneath the perfume she's wearing... why do girls like shit like that? They're better off without it.

"God, don't even get me started on the shitty laws regulating beer distribution." Talking about this shit always gets me going, and I decide Bella should know a little bit about it. "Basically, it's a three-tiered system. By law, brewers aren't allowed to sell directly to stores or bars. We have to sell to a distributor, and they're the ones who bring the product to market."

"It sounds like that saves you time, though. So what's wrong with that?"

"It's all about money and marketing. The distributors who work for the big companies have a lot more money. They can afford to buy prime real estate—all the center shelf-space—while the small brewers are left out in the cold. Some of the smaller breweries can't even get their beer distributed. Haven't you ever wondered why the big brands take up half the store with their shitty beer?"

She shakes her head.

"Well, pay attention next time. You'll see what I'm talking about."

"But isn't that illegal?" she asks curiously. She seems genuinely interested, which pleases me.

"There're supposed to be protections against it, but it happens all the time."

"Okay. But you guys look like you're pretty big," she says, gesturing towards the glass and the works beyond.

"We're nothing compared to some. I've had to work hard to get to where we are. It's cost... a lot." The brewery isn't to blame for the dissolution of my marriage, but it's certainly been a contributing factor. Suddenly I feel weary.

"Oh," she replies. I take a seat next to her, watching the guys out near the tanks. Emmett and Jasper stand talking with Paul and Garrett, probably deciding on the division of labor. I need to get out there to help, and I wonder if Jasper found Seth.

Seth's approaching footsteps seem to answer my thoughts.

"Hey, Bella."

"What's up, Seth? I didn't know you worked here." So, they know each other. I don't know exactly how to feel about that. The way Seth looks at her, it's like the sun shines out of her ass.

"Yep, have for a couple years—part time. You the new girl?"

"I think I am." She turns her head toward me. "That is, if I passed my first test."

"Test?" Seth asks. She gestures toward the beer on the counter. "Oh, the Hefe... good stuff, huh?"

"I liked it."

I smile a little despite my slight unease. But I'm curious.

"You two know each other?"

"Yeah, you could say that." Seth grins at her. "This girl makes one helluva milkshake."

"Used to," she replies, laughing.

"So, I'm supposed to show you around. You all set here?" Seth looks to me for confirmation, and I nod, handing Bella the folder I'd almost forgotten. "Don't forget to fill this stuff out. But yeah. I think we're done here... for now."

"Great!" Seth's obvious enthusiasm elicits another smile from Bella. "Well, let's go then." He beckons with his hand, and Bella pops up from her chair.

"Okay." She turns back to me. "Thanks, Edward... for the job. And, you know, teaching me."

"It's nothing. Enjoy the tour," I reply brusquely, annoyed with myself. Who the hell cares if they know each other? If he likes her?

Before she can reply, I turn and leave the two of them standing there.

For the next hour and a half I help the rest of the guys load Paul's truck. There's an issue with the bottling machine that needs to be addressed, too... a rivet has fallen off, making one of the taps leak. For the most part I don't see Bella or Seth, but once in a while I catch the two of them out of the corner of my eye. They seem to be having a good time.

The average person doesn't know how complex the beer-making process is, especially when it's done on a large scale. While the warehouse the tasting room looks out onto holds the fermenting and conditioning tanks, there are many more steps that go on behind the scenes. First the grains have to be soaked and dried, milled, mixed with water and soaked, filtered, boiled in huge copper kettles, cooled... Seth knows all this, but still I wonder if perhaps I should have shown her around instead.

After things settle down and Paul has gone, I find the two of them standing next to the copper kettles in the back room. Seth's explaining how hops and sometimes herbs or sugars are added to give the brew liquid different flavor profiles before it's boiled. I stop a few paces behind them, but they don't notice me. I'm just about to announce myself when something Seth says makes me pause.

"Right now, we're waiting to get a batch of IPA in the boil. Apparently the hops are moldy. Edward was so pissed at Emmett this morning. That's probably _one _of the reasons he was in such a bad mood before." I can't believe they're talking about me like this behind my back.

"Would there be any other reasons?" Bella asks, just loud enough for me to hear.

"Hell yeah," Seth says, digging himself in deeper. "He's going through a shitty time with his ex-wife now. Went down to meet with her and her lawyer over the weekend about the divorce. If you ask me, that shit's gonna get messy. That bitch is out for blood, I'm sure."

"Oh," she says. I'm fucking pissed that he's talking about my personal life with Bella. It's none of his damn business, or hers.

"Seth." I bark angrily, my arms crossed in a defensive position. "I'll take over from here. Go help outside."

"Right. Hey, man..." He approaches me, but I'm in no mood.

"Save it."

"Right."

Looking a little green, Seth trots off, leaving Bella and me alone in the boiling room.

"Sounds like you got an earful," I say icily.

Bella looks shaken and chagrined. When she speaks her voice is apologetic.

"I'm sorry... I didn't... anyway, don't be mad at Seth. I was the one who asked."

"Yeah, well. It's pretty much common knowledge at this point," I reply grimly. "But I'd appreciate it if... in the future..."

"I keep my nose out of it. I get it," she says softly, lifting her head. The eyes that peek from beneath her lashes are honest.

"Thank you." I uncross my arms and approach her, placing my hand on the side of the kettle and giving it a pat. "By the way, never touch this when it's in operation. You'll get burned."

"Good to know." She smiles a little, her eyes crinkling at the corners. We stand awkwardly for a minute before she speaks again. "This place is amazing, Edward. I never knew there was so much to it... Honestly, I'm impressed." I regard her carefully to see if she's just sucking up, but she seems genuine. She smiles again hesitantly, and I feel my anger start to fade.

"So, how far did you get?"

"What?" she asks distractedly.

"The tour. How much did Seth show you?"

"Pretty much everything, I think."

"The gully?"

She shakes her head. Suddenly I have an urge to show her what, to me, is the best part of the whole operation.

"Alright, come on." I reach out to touch her arm, just an impulsive gesture to get her attention, but for some reason my hand lingers a beat too long. Her sweatshirt is soft and thin, and I can feel the heat of her skin. Bella looks at me with her wide eyes, and I pull away quickly. "Right," I say, taking a step towards the basement. "This way."

I open the door at the back of the boiling room and switch on the light. When we reach the bottom of the ramp, designed to make accessing the kegs easier, Bella looks around at the barrels lining the metal shelving. The good shit.

"The gully... this is where we age some of our specialty beers when we make them," I tell her. "Right now, we're doing a bourbon-oaked Imperial Stout." I turn the tap on the tasting barrel, filling a small, round snifter with the dark, almost black liquid. I raise the glass to my nose and murmur appreciatively. Heaven.

"We only make about ten barrels of this each year. Would you like to try?" Bella nods enthusiastically and holds her hand out to accept the glass, our fingers brushing for a fleeting second as she grasps the stem. This is partly another test to see if she remembers the tasting techniques from before, but I also want her to enjoy it. I watch approvingly as she sips, holding the beer in her mouth before swallowing and inhaling. Her eyes close, and she whispers something, then they open again as she takes a much larger sip. I laugh.

"Whoa, girl. That stuff's 12 percent. It'll knock you flat."

"It's really good... I never thought I liked dark beer. But this is amazing."

"What do you taste?"

"Chocolate... caramel... it's a little bitter."

"That's the hops," I say, smiling as she takes a more cautious sip.

"Right."

Not wanting to miss out, I pour myself a glass and hold it up to the light—it's so dark nothing filters through. I take a long, slow sip, licking the foam off my upper lip.

"Anything else?" I ask.

"Um. Smoky. It's a little... woody?"

I smirk at her description. "Oaky" I expected, but "woody?" This is just too good an opportunity to pass up.

"A little woody?" I repeat.

Her eyes narrow just a little, the right corner of her mouth turning up. She sniffs the stout again and takes another sip. "It just seems that way to me. Yeah. A little woody." She raises one eyebrow. She's teasing me and I want to play along.

"I can assure you, it's not little," I growl.

She looks at me, surprised, which calls me back to myself. I'm momentarily flustered as I try to figure out how to rescue myself. "It's actually, in fact, intentional...the woodiness. It's supposed to be a prominent flavor."

"Hey! Bella!" Emmett's voice booms, and his heavy footsteps ring on the metal ramp.

"Hey, Emmett," she says—is that relief in her voice?

Emmett's face spreads in a wide grin as he takes in the scene. "Oh man, Edward's showing you the big guns!"

"Uhhhh..." Bella's blushing now and looking down at the floor. She won't meet my eyes.

"Yeah, well. I think we're finished down here," I say gruffly.

"This shit's amazing, isn't it?" Emmett comments, pouring himself a little taste. "It's Edward's brainchild."

"Yeah, it's pretty amazing," she affirms as we finish our beers and head upstairs. I walk a little ahead of them, but I can still hear their conversation.

"So, your first day. What do you think? You think you'll like this job?" Emmett asks.

I turn my head slightly, but I can't hear her answer.

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**So, all new EPOV chapter 2. A little different. You like or no? **


	3. On Beer, Food, and Goats

**A/N. PLEASE READ: I'd like to extend a huge fangirly welcome to Mac214, who has agreed to beta this story. I'm seriously indebted to her for her thoughtful insights and amazing editing skills. Thanks, bb! DiamondHeart78 will continue to pre-read this story and beta the rest of my drivel and just generally be awesome. **

**With Mac's suggestions, I've made some small and some substantial changes. For one, the entire story will now be told from EPOV. I know some of you enjoyed the BPOV, but I fear it will give too much away, too soon. To this end, I've rewritten Chapter Two from EPOV, so you should definitely re-read it before continuing on. Chapter One also has some, more subtle, changes. I'd encourage you to re-read it as well. **

**There are also changes in characterization and in event. I hope that you are not too put out by this, but I believe the story will be better for these changes. **

**Lastly, check out my profile for the new **_**Strange Brew**_** banner, made by my dear Lolypop82. Thanks darling! **

**Thank you all for reading and for your support! **

**

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_**"The culture of the hop ... so analogous to the culture and uses of the grape, may afford a theme for future poets."**_ -_**Henry David Thoreau**_

**Chapter 3: On Beer, Food, and Goats**

"Fo, I wafn't woong, waf I?" Emmett chomps loudly on his sandwich, sending bits of it flying onto his chest and lap. I'd sent Seth into town to grab lunch for us. After running his mouth off about my personal life, it was the least he could do.

"About what?" I ask, raising my eyebrow innocently and leaning back in my chair.

"Oh, don't play dumb. About Bella."

"She knows nothing about beer," I grumble, unwilling to give him the satisfaction he seeks.

"But she'll learn. I could tell she was already getting into it. And anyway, that's not what I meant."

"Really, Em? You're a master of subtlety. I wonder how Rosalie would feel about you checking out another chick."

"Ahh," he says with a wave of his hand, "Please. Rose knows I only have eyes for her. It's just... an empirical observation."

"An empirical observation?"

He shrugs. "We watched Sherlock Holmes last night. Robert Downey, Jr. is some funny shit. What I'm saying is I think Bella'll be perfect. She told me she likes it so far."

"She was only here for three hours," I argue, taking a bite of my sandwich, made just the way I like it. Seth must be sucking up.

"Yeah, and she was with your grumpy ass most of that time and didn't run out of the place screaming. That qualifies her in my book."

Honestly, I don't know why I'm arguing with Emmett about this since I agree with him. Bella might not be experienced, but she's obviously willing to learn and she has a good palate. She's also enthusiastic and funny... and, yes, attractive. _Very_. Watching her sip that beer, her full lips on the rim of the glass was fucking hot.

She's also young. Very young. And an employee...

I'm still thinking about our encounter down in the gully before Emmett came down. There's no doubt she'd flirted with me, but then she got nervous—I could tell by the way her hand trembled slightly as she held her glass. And yeah, I can't deny that I'd liked teasing her... but there's nothing appropriate about that, at all. Bella Swan is off-limits.

"We'll see," I finally reply.

"So, where'd she run off to?"

"Class. I guess they're still in session for a couple weeks." It's not really a problem since Bella'd assured me she'd be available for the bar's opening.

"Does she have finals? What's her major?"

"Fuck if I know. I'm surprised you don't."

"Man, you really are pissy."

The hangover, lack of sleep, and general insanity of my life are taking their toll, and I decide it's probably best for me to go before I do any more damage. I can't remember a time in my life when I wasn't like this, although I know—_empirically_—there was one.

"Yeah, well, don't ever get married," I mutter as I collect the wrappings of my sandwich, ball them up, and toss them into the trashcan near my desk.

"So... can I ask? What happened with Victoria?"

I don't really feel like talking about it, but Emmett's my brother and he's also my partner at Cullen Creek. Even though I make most of the business decisions, his money is tied up in this place, too. He deserves to know what I'm up against. "Well, do you want the bad news or the bad news?"

"Uh..."

"The bad news is it can't be finalized for another two months since we've only been separated for four. Vermont state law. The other bad news is she's asking for alimony...a lot." I sigh and rub the back of my neck.

"How much?"

"A lot. More than I'm gonna give her, that's for damn sure."

"Shit, man. So what're you gonna do?"

"I'm working on it. We're meeting again next month."

"So what happens if you don't agree?"

"Then it goes to the judge... and I'd rather it didn't. I can barely afford Jenks as it is."

"Fuck."

"Exactly."

"Well, Rose and I are here for you, bro. And mom and dad—you know they are too."

"Yeah, thanks."

"You should call Dad, you know. He called me yesterday; said you wouldn't answer your phone."

"I was busy." Busy getting smashed on crappy beer at Loughman's Pub. The closest thing they serve to a micro-brew is nationally distributed and named after a New England patriot. But at the time, I didn't care less.

"Well, you know how he is. He was panicking a little, but I calmed him down."

"Alright, well, I'll call him later."

"Ou faking off?" Emmett asks as I stand, his mouth full his last giant bite.

"I was thinking about it. I'm fucking tired. Call me if anything happens, okay?"

"Will do. Go! Sleep! It's all under control."

"That's what you said last time," I mutter, grabbing my coat from behind the office door and giving a half-assed wave to the boys on the floor as I pass.

Outside, it's still chilly, and my thoughts inadvertently drift to Bella again. She hadn't been wearing a coat, and she'd come on foot. The brewery isn't too far of a walk from town, maybe about twenty minutes, but still. It's enough time to get cold. And she was a little tipsy...I smirk a little, thinking of her going to class like that. Probably a different sort of lesson from what she's used to.

Soon I'm speeding down the winding access road leading from the brewery to the highway. She left an hour ago, so there's no way she'll still be walking, but I keep my eye out for her just the same. The last thing I need is for an employee to get sick just before the opening.

But yeah, she's long gone, so I take the right and head home toward Appletree Bay.

Pulling up in front of the two-story Cape Cod house where Victoria and I used to live fills me with mixed emotions. It had been her dream house. When we first moved in four years ago—just as the brewery started turning enough of a profit for us to live comfortably—I loved it too... even despite the giant mortgage. Right on the banks of Lake Champlain—beach access, deck... what's not to love?

But now it only reminds me of her. There's so little of me here. It'd probably be better to sell the place and get something closer to town, anyway.

The fresh air clears my head a little as I make my way up the stone walkway and turn the key in the door, kicking aside the accumulated mail and dropping my bag on the floor by the stairs.

There were problems in our marriage even back when we moved in, although—at the time—I couldn't see them. Everything is so obvious now.

She went crazy decorating the place, buying new furniture, gutting and remodeling the kitchen, installing a hot tub on the newly screened porch. Then she started in on clothes, shoes—she only wanted designer brands even though we couldn't really afford it. But I let her do whatever the hell she wanted, just to make her happy. In some ways, I understood it. Victoria and I started dating in high school, and she didn't have a lot growing up. Her parents were divorced—she and her sister Bree lived with her mom, and their father was a total prick. Never even sent her a present on her birthday. Asshole.

So yeah, I got that she wanted nice things. But when I told her we had to scale back because of the expansion, she got sulky and passive-aggressive. I'll never forget the night I came home and overheard her on the phone with Bree, talking shit about me. She thought I was being stupid, that we wouldn't succeed and lose everything. I told her I was doing it for us, but it was clear she had absolutely no faith in me. It only got worse from there, but yeah, that was the beginning of the end.

But of course, now that things are going well, she's looking for her cut. Not that I'm bitter or anything.

I grab a couple of aspirin from the bottle and wash them down with a swig of orange juice straight from the carton, and fuck if I don't think of Bella Swan again. Her eyes...they remind me of something. Chocolate and malted barley...hmmm...a nice, dark brown beer. Bella Brown. It has a nice ring to it.

_Fuck, Edward_.

I need to sleep. But first I leave a quick message on my parents' machine, telling them I'm still breathing. The last thing I need is either of them to show up right now. They're sympathetic about the divorce, but they've been happily married for over thirty years; there's no way they can really understand. It's incredible to me, since even though in some ways my mother and father are complete opposites, they complement each other in this way that just seems to work. I wonder what that's like.

**/~S8B~\\\**

By the time Friday rolls around, I'm feeling a little better. The fresh hops were delivered on time, and now the IPA is fermenting nicely. We're still on schedule, which is a fucking relief. All in all, things at the brewery seem to be under control.

Today I've planned another taste test for Bella, but this time I'm also pairing food with the beers. Most people don't know that good beer, like good wine, has affinity for certain foods. I'm hoping this lesson also shows Bella how to help with recommendations if customers ask, and it'll also stop the alcohol from affecting her as much.

After lunch, I drive down to the store to get what I need, and when I come through the door with the bag of food just after two o'clock, I'm surprised to see Bella's already here. She's sitting on a bar stool, reading a book and wearing her blue Cullen Creek t-shirt, but sets the book down and swivels around when she hears me. My eyes are drawn immediately to her long, shapely legs. She's wearing a skirt and tights... a very short skirt. The boots on her feet are Doc Martins, not those shitty furry brown things all the college girls wear.

"Hey," she says, smiling. "I'm sorry. I'm a little early."

"Nah, it's fine."

"Seth offered to pick me up, but he had to be here at two. It's a trek up here from my place.

Her revelation irritates me more than it should.

"How long?" I ask, setting the bag down on the bar and removing items. Bella watches curiously.

"Hmm?" It was a pretty straightforward question if you ask me, but I detect the hint of a blush on her cheeks. She's such an enigma—one moment she's blatantly flirting and cocky and the next she's shy... it's kinda... fuck... it's cute.

"How long is the walk?" I clarify.

"Umm...it took me about 45 minutes each way last time."

"Well, why didn't you say so? I could've given you a ride," I say, grinning.

She's really blushing now, but instead of answering, she plays right along with an answering smile.

"Hmm...I'll remember that for next time."

_What the fuck am I doing? Back to business, asshole. _

I clear my throat, focusing my attention back on unpacking.

"Don't you have a car?"

"I do. I have an old pickup, but it's dead. Don't know if it's the battery or what, but it won't start, and I don't have the money to get it towed to a shop or fixed if I got it there."

Bella stands and comes to the end of the bar, picking up a couple of the items I've placed there. She's standing close, and she's so short I can see the top of her head. She's wearing a little clippy thing in her hair, but it's still pulled back in that ponytail. I wonder what it looks like loose around her shoulders.

"Well, you need to get it fixed. You'll be going home late on the weekends, and it'll be dark... you can't always rely on someone being here to take you."

"I know that," she replies with an irritated tone, taking a step back and crossing her arms. "And I will. As soon as I start getting paid."

"Yeah, you should do that."

"Okay, Dad. Jeesh."

Bella's sitting on a stool again, swinging her legs. It's distracting.

"You know," she says, watching me fold up the paper grocery bag and throw it away, "you really should use reusable bags when you shop. That right there," she gestures in the direction of the trash, "probably killed a tree in the rainforest. You know how many life-saving medicines we might never discover if the rainforests are destroyed? A lot. And all of the undiscovered species? All so you can have a bag to take home your goat cheese in." Bella holds up the offending cheese and wrinkles her nose.

"Do you only dislike my use of paper bags, or is it the cheese, too?"

"It's both."

"Have you ever had goat cheese, Bella?"

She sets it down with a look of palpable disgust. "No. I haven't. I don't eat things made from goats."

"What are you, a vegan or something?" I consider the smoked sausage. I hadn't even thought about the possibility she might have dietary restrictions.

"I'm a vegetarian, actually, but I do eat cheese. It's just the idea of goat milk freaks me out."

"Well," I say, unable to resist, "you better get over it, 'cause this is what you're eating today."

"What! Hell no!" She shudders and crosses her arms again, her face in a pout. She looks young and fucking adorable.

"May I ask why it freaks you out?"

"I was traumatized."

"By _cheese_?"

"No, idiot." She claps her hand over her mouth, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stifle a laugh. "Sorry," she mumbles.

"Don't be. I've been called worse." Ain't that the truth. "So, if not cheese, then the goats themselves?"

"Yes. I was five. My dad took me to this petting zoo. And I was so excited... I love animals. So... anyway. We get there, and I'm having a blast. I'm petting the little donkey—these miniature donkeys from Sicily... amazing—and there are these cute baby lambs and a baby cow with a really long, purple tongue... and tiny, little, yellow chicks and fluffy ducks... pretty much any kid's wet dream. It's fucking awesome."

"You seem to have a pretty clear memory of it."

"Edward," Bella says, raising her eyebrow, "haven't you heard that traumatic experiences stay with a person forever?"

"Sorry. Go on." It's getting harder and harder to keep from smiling.

"Right. So. They have these little dispensers for dried corn that cost a quarter, you know? And I'm begging my dad for some quarters. 'Dad Dad Dad, I wanna feed the animals.' 'Cause, yeah, I was a stupid kid and I loved them." Bella's quite the storyteller. She's so enthusiastic, and, yeah, now I'm fucking smiling at her.

"So. Did he give you quarters?"

"He had a whole roll of them. And I'm jumping for joy 'cause now I get to feed the animals. And then... we hit the mother load. There's a pen of baby goats you can feed with baby bottles full of milk, so of course I beg my dad and he gets me one."

"Of course."

"Yeah. Charlie's not big on animals, so he opens the gate, and I go in alone. But I'm short. _Really_ short. And as soon as those goats see me with that bottle, they attack. Baby goats, my ass. Those things are killers. They push me over and go for the bottle, but I'm holding onto it like my life depends on it. By the time my dad makes it in there to save me, I was covered with milk and mud and goat poop. It was disgusting." She leans back, shuddering. And I'm fucking laughing because that is the funniest shit I've heard in years.

Bella is glaring at me. "It's not fucking funny."

"Sorry. Right. Traumatic experiences are not to be laughed at." But I'm having trouble stopping. This is just too good.

"Hey!"

"Sorry, sorry. Sorry, goat girl."

Bella rolls her eyes. "God, I'm never gonna live this down, am I?"

"Nope. And anyway, all of the staff here have nicknames."

"What's yours, Bossman?"

"Edward."

I walk around behind the bar and begin arranging the food, sans sausage, on paper plates while Bella looks on skeptically. I cut narrow sections of baguette and smear them with goat cheese and honey and garnish them with slices of fresh figs, because, yeah, I'm all gourmet and shit. The rest of the food is easier to prepare and only requires unwrapping. When I'm finished, I excuse myself for a minute to get the beers since we haven't tapped kegs yet behind the bar. Coming back with a mixed twelve pack from the chill room, I catch Bella sniffing a piece of goat cheese baguette like a hesitant animal. She drops it again when I clear my throat.

"Don't let me stop you."

She looks me up and down, a scowl on her face. "I'm fine. Really."

"Bella. I guarantee you will like this. All chicks do."

"Is that so?" she asks with a smirk as I pop open the beers and set them behind their food pairings. "You're an expert, I presume."

Not really having any idea how to answer her, I switch topics. "Yeah...Well, today's lesson..."

"Looks more unappetizing than dissecting a fetal pig in biology."

I raise my eyebrow at her, pouring the first beer into its appropriate glass. "Is that what you study?"

"I'm an Animal Science major. Pre-vet. Large animal."

"So, what? Horses and cows and... goats?" I smirk.

Bella sighs and rolls her eyes. "Among other things. And, anyway, Bossman, didn't they ever teach you beating the same old joke to death is a really annoying habit?"

"No, they didn't. I've learned everything I need to know from David Letterman."

"Misogynist."

I let that last comment go reluctantly, since we really need to get to work.

"So. Today, you're gonna try the rest of our beers and learn a bit about pairing them with food. And, of course, the best way to learn is to try, alright?"

Bella nods less than enthusiastically.

"Alright. So. This first beer you tried last time... do you remember?" I pick up the bottle of the Hefeweisen.

"Um, yeah," she says. "It was only three days ago."

"Good. This time I want you to try it with this..." I slide over the glass and the package of strawberries. Bella plucks one up and brings it to her lips, and a bit of juice dribbles down her chin. Before I can tell her she reaches for a napkin, blushing and wiping her face.

"Now sip."

"Mmmmmm," she murmurs appreciatively. "That's really nice."

"Hefe is a light beer, so it goes well with fruits, sweet things, seafood. I know you don't eat mussels, but it's pretty fucking awesome with those too. And I like it with nuts."

Bella takes another bite of strawberry and another sip of the beer. "I bet you do."

I think I'm finally realizing that Bella has quite a dirty mind. Her sense of humor is a little immature, but I like it. _Fuck!_

"Right. Moving on. You always want to start each tasting with the lightest beer and move to darkest, unless the customer requests a certain kind."

"Like a wine tasting."

"Exactly. You've been to one?"

"Yeah, out in Washington, where I'm from. There're a lot of really good wineries out there. Good Pinot Noir."

"Well, good. That's good."

Bella smiles, pleased.

"Alright, on to the next. This is one of our best sellers, the Three Frog IPA," I tell her, passing her the glass. "It's not as fresh as I'd like it to be, since this is from an older batch, but it's good enough to try."

She takes the proffered glass and sips; her face scrunches in surprise.

"It's really bitter!" she exclaims.

"Not an IPA fan, huh?" Surprisingly, I'm not offended, even though it's one of my favorite beers.

"It's... not too bad," she hedges. "It's grassy... a little fruity. Very hoppy."

"Bella, it's fine for you to have your own personal preferences—just don't tell the customers you think it sucks." I pass her the bag of chips and a jar of hot salsa, and Bella surprises me by scooping up an enormous amount of the stuff on a chip before I can warn her how hot it is. She smiles and makes an appreciative noise before reaching for another.

"This actually makes it better. I love hot stuff," she says.

"I can see that. Well, anyway, IPA goes really well with any kind of spicy food since the bitterness of the hops stands up the heat. You should really learn to like it."

"Yeah, I'll work on that."

Bella tries the Raspberry Wheat beer next and smiles. I can see her flavor preferences more clearly now. She likes malty, dark beers and lighter, fruity, less hoppy ones.

"Now this, I like. I drink this down at the pub all the time."

This surprises me. "You do?"

"Yeah, it's my favorite."

"No, I mean, you go down to the pub... my pub?"

"All the time... with Alice."

"I've never seen you there before, goat girl."

Bella scowls a little, and then her cute blush is back. Fucking hell... I'm starting to love making her blush, even though right now it isn't intentional.

"Yeah, well..." I want to know what she's going to say, but she doesn't finish. Instead, I slide the plate of goat cheese and fig baguettes over to her. She looks at me with mock horror. "You don't really expect me to try one of these, do you?"

I nod, picking one up and popping it in my mouth. "Yep."

"You really are cruel."

"Hey, I told you I was an asshole when you took the job."

"True."

"Take one bite, chew, and swallow. Now that's an order."

"I will—if you promise not to call me goat girl."

"I'll stop calling you goat girl if you don't like it. And the only way you'll know is if you try. It's called a compromise."

"Fuck." She closes her eyes and holds her nose, bringing the bread to her mouth and taking a tentative bite. It's amazing watching her expression shift from complete disgust to confusion and, finally, to delight. She opens her eyes in surprise.

"You like it. I told you."

"Shit. I... do. It's..." She takes another bite, larger this time, and then washes it down with a sip of beer. "Honestly, it's nothing like I thought it'd be. It's so creamy... a little tart... it doesn't taste like goats. And the honey and the fig... that's just really good."

I try not to be too pleased with myself, but I allow myself a small smirk. "Good. Well, this shit goes perfectly with the Raz Wheat. And if you tell customers about it, they'll think you're a genius."

"I am a genius."

"And modest too."

She smiles a little, picking up another piece of baguette. "Does this mean you're still gonna call me... you know... that?"

"Only in private," I say before I can stop myself. Bella raises her eyebrow. _What the fuck is wrong with me?_

The next beer is our Copper Ale, which I was going to pair with the sausage, although now I can't because of Bella's inconvenient vegetarianism. So I eat some while we try the beer, and she looks on with absolute disgust.

"How can you eat that stuff? It's made from pig guts."

"Pig guts are good."

"Gross."

Finally, we're down to the one dark beer she hasn't tried—our Oatmeal Porter. It's a little sweeter and less hoppy than the Imperial Stout she tried earlier in the week, and if she liked that, she's gonna love this. I hope.

"Now this shit...this will go good with any kind of roasted meat or stew," I explain. "But it's also good with desserts, especially chocolate."

Bella's eyes widen, and she smiles, taking a sip. "Mmm... this is good."

"Wait till you try it with the this," I say, breaking her off a piece of the organic dark chocolate bar. She takes it and bites off a small corner.

"Don't tell me you don't like chocolate, either."

"I fucking love chocolate—are you kidding? I just like to savor it, so I always take little bites."

I want to laugh at her and tell her there's a whole bar here if she wants it, but I'm kinda enjoying watching her nibbles. She takes a sip of the beer and moans, and I'm glad I'm standing behind the bar because my cock is definitely taking an interest in the sounds she's making. Fucking hell. _I had to go with the chocolate, didn't I?_

"Wow... that's just... wow... amazing. It makes the beer taste more like coffee...and yeah, it's sweet without being too sweet." There's a little chocolate on the corner of her mouth, and her tongue darts out to catch it, and, yeah, my cock likes that too.

"I'm glad you...like it." Honestly I'm a little flustered. Is she doing that shit on purpose?

Before I have time to consider the answer to that question, I hear Emmett's and Seth's loud voices before their bodies emerge from around the corner.

"Taste test! Fuck, yeah!" Emmett exclaims when he sees the food.

"Hey, Em! Hey, Seth," Bella greets them, setting her glass down as Seth approaches. I can't hear what they're saying because Emmett's so loud.

"Goat cheese and fig, huh? Never seen you bring this shit around here before." He picks up a piece of baguette and elbows me before it disappears into his big mouth.

"It goes good with the Raz Wheat," I explain.

"Sure, sure."

I'd answer him with a snide remark, but I'm distracted by the sound of Bella's giggle... she's laughing at something the kid said. And he seems a little too fucking pleased with himself.

"Edward?" Bella turns to me. "Um...if we're done here, is it okay for me to get a ride back with Seth?"

No. I want to tell her we're not fucking done and that I'll be the one to give her a ride when we are. But I don't.

"Yeah, go ahead. But next time make sure you can stay your full shift." I try to make the statement casually, but maybe it comes out a little wrong.

"But I thought you sa..."

"It's fine." I wave my hand. "See you later."

"Okaaay." Bella's glance darts between the three of us, and she gives a forced smile. "Come on, Seth. Let's go."

Seth grins and even has the balls to help her on with her coat. _Fucking hell._

Bella turns around one last time and gives a small wave, her eyes catching mine just for a second before she's out the door.

Emmett nudges me. "Shit, bro. The goat cheese and figs...dead giveaway."

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"Whatever, Edward. You know what they say about denial."

"That it's none of your damn business?"

"Thanks," he says, going in for the chips and salsa. "You just proved my point."

A little while later, once everyone else is gone for the night, I'm cleaning up and notice Bella's left her book behind. I'm a little surprised it's _On the Road_, one of my favorites. Does she need it for class?

I have a sudden impulse to bring it to her, but wouldn't it be a little strange for me to show up at her house? I know I can find her address from her paperwork... but even I know that's an abuse of privilege and probably more than a little creepy.

I put the book aside while I finish closing up, completely indecisive about what to do. Should I or shouldn't I?

_Fuck. _

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**So, what do **_**you **_**think he should do? **

**I doubt I'll update Strange Brew again before Christmas, but whatever your religious denomination, I hope you have a wonderful holiday season! For those of you who read A Quiet Fire, don't fret; I will be updating sometime this week. **


	4. Pregame

**A/N: Thanks to Mac214 for being an awesome, super-fast, and accurate beta—you're amazing, woman! *Bows down _Wayne's World _style***

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**"Drinking beer doesn't make you fat, It makes you lean...**  
**Against bars, tables, chairs, and poles."—Anon**

**Chapter 4: Pregame**

Back in the office, I pull out Bella's employee file and sit down at my desk, opening it. 127 Archer Drive. It's probably one of those big, renovated houses down by the campus on the other side of town—shouldn't be too hard to find. But then I notice her phone number is also listed. Of course. It makes a helluva lot more sense just to call her and see if she needs the damn book.

_So what are you gonna do? _

I snatch my phone and push back on my chair, hesitating before dialing the number. For some reason I'm nervous. It almost would be easier just to bring the thing to her house. I'm her boss, but I'm acting like a fucking teenager. Before I can change my mind I punch in her number, cradling the phone to my ear as I stand and grab my coat.

On the third ring, the phone picks up and a deep voice bellows in my ear.

"You cheap motherfucker! Just get the damn pizza! We'll pay you back!"

It's a guy. He's definitely not expecting me, and hell if I'm expecting him.

"Uh... this is Edward Cullen calling for Bella Swan."

"Oh, shit. Sorry," the voice says. "I thought you were someone else."

"Obviously."

"Hang on a sec." There's muffled laughter and loud music on the end of the line. A girl's high-pitched voice squeals from far away. "Bella, Bella! Hey! Babe, someone's on the phone for you!" the voice shouts.

Babe? This idiot is her boyfriend? I instantly regret calling and then wonder why I should. Idiot boyfriend or no, she still left her book.

"Who is it?" I recognize Bella's voice.

"Some guy. Edmund something?"

Edward, moron. Who the hell is named Edmund? She says something else, but I can't make it out.

Two seconds later her voice is on the line. "Hello?"

"Hi, Bella. This is Edward."

"Hi. Look, I'm sorry about leaving before my shift was over. I really, really hope you're not calling to fire me because I need this job."

"That's not why I'm calling."

"Oh, okay." She seems surprised, but I can hear the relief in her voice. The idiot says something to her, and Bella answers with a laugh. "Sorry, hang on a second, Edward. Go away, Mike."

"It's clearly a bad time. I just wanted to—"

"No, it's fine. I'm not busy. I'm just trying to get rid of a pest. My roommate is a pain in the ass."

A male roommate? So maybe he's not her boyfriend. Of course, it doesn't matter. "I didn't know you had a roommate."

"I never told you. But yeah, I have three. They're great guys, but they're all idiots."

_Three _male roommates?

"Well, why do you live with them then?" I ask testily.

"Not that it's any of your business, but they're my friends." As she speaks I hold the phone with one hand, struggling to put on my jacket and do a quick check around the room before locking up. "I had another roommate a couple years ago, but it ended badly."

"Badly?"

"Yeah." She doesn't elaborate, disappointing my inappropriate curiosity. She's my employee, and I really don't need to know anything about her personal life.

"I see."

"But I've been friends with these guys forever. It's okay, for the most part, even if Mike's annoying girlfriend is always here." I hear another squeal of laughter, and Bella sighs, whispering. "Did you hear that? That's what I have to deal with."

"She sounds... happy."

"More like insane." She pauses, and I can tell by the diminishing sounds she's moving to a quieter room. "So, Edmund... I don't mean to be rude, but why did you call again?"

On my way to way to my truck, I pat the book in my breast pocket just to make sure I didn't leave it inside.

"Well, goat girl, you left your book behind. I didn't know if you needed it for anything."

"My book?"

"The Kerouac."

"Oooh. Right. Shit, yeah, I do kinda need that."

"Well, I can drop it by if you want." I hop into the cab and turn the key, giving the engine a second to warm.

"Um... wow. It's nice of you to offer, but I really couldn't make you do that."

"It's not a problem. I'm coming into town anyway." Most Fridays I spend down at the pub mingling with customers and overseeing things since I don't usually get a chance during the week. Because we're opening soon up at the brewery, it's more important than ever to create some buzz.

"You could drop it by, but Alice and I are headed out in a few to go visit Jasper down the pub. She's picking me up in, like, 30 seconds."

"Okay. I'm headed over there myself," I tell her. "I'll bring the book and leave it behind the bar if I don't see you."

"Sounds good. Thanks so much."

"It's nothing. I'll see you in a while."

Fifteen minutes later I'm making my way toward Cullen Creek. We're one of the many bars on the pedestrian mall in Burlington, but we're also the most popular. It's incredible to me how far we've come in the seven years since Emmett and I first went into business together.

The familiar brick façade feels like home, so much more so than my own house or even the brewery; this is where it all began. A few smokers outside greet me as I approach, and I stop and chat for a second, patting Matt, one of Burlington's oldest and most familiar citizens, on the back. A few years ago I was one of these guys, chain-smoking a pack a day. Thank God I've managed to stay smoke-free even during all this shit with Victoria. I've wanted to light up more than once.

Inside, the place is packed with everyone from college students to older couples. It's loud and warm and dark, and I recognize most of the people. That's one of the things I love about this business – or at least the way I run it. Whatever happens, however successful we become, I want to preserve this sense of small-town familiarity.

There are two smaller dining rooms where people with families and those looking for a low-key night can have a drink and a bite to eat. The bar area is always crowded, though, even more so since it's gotten warmer at night. That's the thing about Vermont, at least in town. People hibernate during the winter and come out in droves once the weather's good.

Jasper and Melanie both work the bar tonight, and I give them a wave, going to the kitchen to hang up my coat. It's a madhouse in there; the head chef shouts orders, and it smells good. I grab Bella's book out of the pocket of my jacket, slapping it against my hand.

"Heyyyyyyy, Ed!" Frank, our chef, calls from behind the line. "You hungry? I got some real nice fish in tonight. With chips?"

"Make it onion rings," I call back.

"You're the boss."

Back at the bar, Jasper's set me up with my pint of Three Frog. I take a grateful sip, leaning back on the bar with the damn book in my hand. Glancing around, I don't see Bella. Obviously she's not here yet. I open it up; there are notes in the margins, but I don't know if they're hers or someone else's since I don't recognize her handwriting. It's nearly indecipherable except for a phrase written in all caps and underlined: WHAT THE FUCK?

I smile secretly to myself. Definitely Bella.

"Edward!" Melanie leans over the bar, her cleavage gathering obviously at the neck of the low-cut top she's not required to wear. She has an amazing body, but she's not my type. For one, she's blonde; for another, she's one of the most annoying people I've ever met. Luckily for her, the customers love her. _Wonder why_, I think sardonically, trying not to make eye contact with her rack. "I haven't seen you in ages," she whines. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Life's a bitch," I say, taking another sip and settling down on a freshly-vacated stool.

"Yeah, I hear that. But we miss you," she pouts. "You should come in more often. You used to." I'm finding it increasingly difficult to not look at her tits since she's squeezing them together right in front of my face.

"Hmmm... I'll see what I can do," I murmur as she's called away to wait on another customer. Jasper grins over at me. He's been pressuring me to fuck Melanie for the last four months, but I've told him again and again, despite the fact she's irritating as shit, I don't sleep with the staff. It's a lawsuit waiting to happen.

Some regulars are seated around me, and I chat with them for a few minutes until one of the bus boys brings me out my dinner. The fish is pretty damn good.

"Cullen," says a familiar voice from behind me. I don't turn.

"Brandon," I reply measuredly.

"You here harassing my boyfriend?"

"You here to harass me?"

"As always."

I turn around expecting to see Bella, but she's nowhere to be seen.

"So, Bella told me the training's going well," Alice says, taking the seat next to me.

"She's not too bad," I admit.

"Not too bad? Oh, high praise."

"Hey there, darlin'," Jasper calls, interrupting us.

Alice's face lights up, and she leans over to kiss him. He's grinning like an idiot, and so is she. After five years you'd think the novelty would've worn off. I still remember the day Alice walked into the bar; Jasper had been working for me for six months, and we were just closing up. She was dressed like Burlington was New York City, and I was about to crack a joke about it to Jasper, but he turned to me with this insane look on his face. I knew he was a goner before he even said a word.

"Hi, babe," Alice replies. "You guys are really busy!"

"I know – tell me about it. Haven't had a minute free." He slides her a gin and tonic with lime; Alice routinely complains that beer tastes like piss.

"Well, don't let me keep you. Bella's here. She's just in the bathroom."

Jasper nods, pouring another drink and sliding it over. It's the same as Alice's. The girls are taking no prisoners tonight.

"I'll be back," Jasper says in his worst _Terminator_ impression. I roll my eyes.

A couple minutes later, Bella joins us. The first thing I notice is her hair. It's almost as if she read my mind earlier in the day; she's wearing it down, and it's longer and wavier than I imagined. I have this crazy urge to reach out and touch it, but of course I don't. Her lips shine under the light at the bar. I'm just about to say hi when she throws her arm around Alice's shoulder.

"Damn, that line was insane, honestly," she complains as Alice passes her drink.

"I thought you fell in," Alice jokes.

"It seemed that way. Hey," she says, noticing me and smiling. "You need to add another bathroom for the ladies. This one stall thing is just not acceptable."

"Yeah, so I've heard." Victoria used to make similar suggestions. The memory is not welcome.

"It's not fair," Alice says. "Men take two seconds to pee. They just have to whip it out and they're done."

Bella murmurs her agreement and takes a sip of her drink, then grimaces. "Ugh. Gin."

"I thought you liked it."

"No, I like vodka tonic. Gin tastes like Pine Sol and smells like carrots."

"Right. Okay. Alice to the rescue." She takes the drink from Bella's hand and locates Jasper at the end of the bar. "I'll be right back."

Now it's just Bella and me, but I should be making my rounds. I take another sip of beer and pass her the book.

"Here you go."

"Thanks." She tosses her hair over her shoulder, and I get a waft of that fruity perfume again. I wish I could tell her not to wear that shit. It's a tight squeeze at the bar, and as she moves to take Alice's seat, her body presses against me unintentionally. I'm pretty sure her tits just brushed against my arm. Firm yet soft. Fuck.

"I really have to finish reading this," she says, fingering the binding, "but God, I hate this book."

I'm surprised and more than a little disappointed. "How can you hate Jack Kerouac?" I ask. "He's an American icon." She steals one of my onion rings.

"Do you mind?" she asks, taking a large bite. I shake my head, sliding the plate over.

After chewing and swallowing she smirks. "So you ask how I can hate Kerouac? Easily."

"Do tell."

"You're a guy," she sighs, "so obviously you like him."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Glancing down the bar, I see Alice deeply engaged in conversation with Jasper.

"It's just... I have this theory," she says, taking a sip of my beer like it's no big deal. She swallows and makes a little noise, her mouth puckering. The shiny lip stuff leaves a small mark on the rim of the glass, and for just a second I consider running my tongue over it, just to see what it tastes like.

What the fuck?

"I can't wait to hear this," I reply.

"Well. Okay. So, I'm not an English person, you know? I mean, I like reading, but I'm a science nerd."

"A science nerd?"

"Yeah, kinda."

I raise my eyebrows, willing her to continue.

"I was taking this required English class freshman year, and we were reading _Mrs. Dalloway_."

"Virginia Woolf."

"Right. Point for you!" she says, hitting my arm. I pull back and grimace in mock pain. "Anyway, the teacher asks us what we think of the book, and she calls on me. I have no verbal filter, so I say the first thing that comes into my head."

"Which was?"

"Which was you can't understand the book unless you're a middle-aged woman. Of course, that's exactly what my professor is."

"I'm sure that went over well," I say with a laugh. Bella shakes her head emphatically.

"Actually, she took it in stride. The whole damn class laughed at me. Whatever. It wasn't the most astute comment I've ever made."

"What does this have to do with Jack Kerouac?" I ask, amused.

"It's all part of my theory. Just wait," she says, holding up her finger and sipping my beer again. She makes a face.

"I thought you didn't like IPA."

"I'm working on it. Just like you said."

I smile in self-congratulations.

"So anyway, what I said in class was stupid, I admit, but there was some truth to it. Virginia Woolf wrote _Mrs. Dalloway_ from her perspective as a middle-aged woman, right? So it deals with issues that women of a certain age face."

"Okay..."

"It's the same with Jack Kerouac."

"He was a middle-aged woman?"

"No!" she exclaims, hitting my arm again. _Damn, she packs a mean punch_, I think, rubbing at the spot.

"Well, explain yourself, goat girl."

She glares at me, her lips drawn in a pout. There's a little crumb of onion ring on the side of her mouth, and I make a gesture to remove it. Her fingers move more quickly than mine, traveling to her lips as she blushes.

"What I mean... is that Jack Kerouac has a different audience. He's a man, and he's writing about this experience of traveling, meeting people, chicks, whatever, from that perspective. Even the style it's told in is so masculine. He has this very male sense of ennui. I just can't relate to it."

"It's one of my favorite books," I confess.

"But have you read _Mrs. Dalloway_?"

"Yeah, in college."

"Did you like it?"

It seems so long ago, I can barely remember my time at UV. I shrug. "It was okay."

Bella smiles and cocks her head. "See! But you love _On the Road_."

"So, what you're saying is you can only really love a book if it's relevant to you? Isn't that a little narrow-minded?"

She considers what I've said, shrugging. "No, I'm not saying you can't enjoy it – just that it won't resonate with you in the same way it will for someone who's lived that experience."

"Sure. But isn't that the way we learn about other people's lives? I mean, if you only read about things relevant to you, I think you're missing out."

She stares at me with narrowed eyes, considering what I've said. It seems Bella's not used to being contradicted, and she doesn't like it.

"You may have a point, there, Edmund," she says begrudgingly.

I grin at her. "I've been known to have one or two. But anyway, it's a good book. You should give it a chance."

"I hate to tell you, but it's boring."

"You certainly are opinionated for someone so young."

Bella rolls her eyes. "I'm not _that_ young, jeez." Alice returns with drink in hand, interrupting our conversation.

"_Vodka_ tonic, my dear," she says, passing it to Bella. She takes a sip, and I rescue my nearly finished beer from the bar in front of her.

"You're my hero, Al."

"Heroine," Alice corrects her. "Hey, there's a table opening up in the back. You wanna grab it?"

"Sounds good," Bella says, turning back to me. "You want to join us?" From behind her, Alice makes a face.

Yes. No. Kind of.

"I can't. Have to make the rounds, but you two have fun." I down the rest of my beer, standing quickly. The shiny lip stuff tastes like cherries. Fuck.

"Okay. Well, thanks for bringing this," Bella says, holding up the book.

"Even though you hate it."

"Even though."

Alice grabs Bella's free arm and starts dragging her away. She gives a smile and turns to follow, and my eyes are immediately drawn to her tight, black jeans. Science nerd, my ass.

"Another beer, hun?" Melanie asks from behind the bar. I quickly turn my head, caught off-guard and more than a little flustered.

"Nah, I'm good." I never have more than a beer when I come in to work; getting drunk around customers isn't wise policy. _Maybe getting drunk around Bella isn't a wise policy, either. _

"Alright. You let me know," she says, clearing away the remnants of my dinner.

For the next couple of hours, I do my thing, talking to customers and looking stuff over in the back room. I generally don't have to do much here since our manager, Liam, usually has things under control. He's been on vacation for a week, though, so I have to fill orders and make sure operations are running smoothly.

Once in a while I catch a glimpse of Alice and Bella sitting at their corner table. They seem deep in conversation and I'm busy, so I don't get another chance to talk to her, and by the time I'm ready to go they've already left.

Why the fuck am I disappointed?

People are starting to filter out, so I sit down at the bar again. Jasper pours me another pint before I can protest.

"Here, man; you deserve it."

"Thanks."

"Hey!" he says, over my head. I glance over to where he's looking, surprised to see Bella's back near her vacated table. "I thought you guys left!"

"We did," she says, sauntering over to stand next to me. "But I forgot the damn book again, so Alice had to bring me back."

Jasper chuckles and turns to serve another customer.

"You're still here?" Bella asks. Her face is a little flushed and her proximity is... unsettling. Her thigh brushes against my bent knee in what I'm sure is an unintentional movement. Right? She's noticeably tipsy.

"I appear to be."

"You work an awful lot, Edmund," she says, a glint in her eye.

"So I've been told."

At the end of our marriage, it was one of Victoria's main complaints. Truthfully, one of the reasons I'd worked so much was to avoid fighting with her, which was all we seemed to do when we were together.

"You should have a little fun once in a while."

"I do," I lie.

"Do you?" Another thigh brush. I glance down. Damn, those are tight pants. For a split second I wonder what she'd do if I put my glass down and cupped her ass. That's what my hand wants to do at this moment—snake around and pull her against me.

She'd probably alert Human Resources.

Wait. I _am_ Human Resources.

I bet her ass is firm.

_Fuck._

"What sort of crap has Alice been feeding you?" I say gruffly, willing myself not to think about her… shit, I'm thinking about it. _She's an employee_, I argue with myself, _and you're just a lonely, horny bastard_.

"Nothing. It's just an observation," she says, leaning a little closer.

"Well..." I can't think of anything to say because there's no blood left in my thick skull.

"Hey, Bella," Jasper calls from down the bar. He's cradling the phone on his shoulder. "Alice wants me to tell you to 'hurry the fuck up."

Bella laughs and steps backwards. Dammit. No. This is good. The last thing I need is another lawsuit. This shit with Victoria is enough.

"Alright, tell her to hold her horses," she replies.

Jasper nods and goes back to the phone.

"I gotta run," she says. "But, you know, I was thinking, I should probably give you my cell number. I don't know why I didn't use it on my application in the first place – I assume that's how you know my phone number. That way you don't have to deal with my idiot roommates if you need to get in touch with me." Her voice is blasé as she retrieves a pen from her purse, jotting down her number on the back of a coaster. Still, in the back of my head I wonder if Bella is giving me her number, as in _giving me her number_.

That's not appropriate, is it?

She slides the coaster over to me. "Okay, see you next week."

"See you then," I say absently, glancing down at the naked digits. I don't know what I was expecting—a proposition?

When I look up again, she's gone.

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**A/N: Please review! I'd love to hear from you. And check out my blog for Beerward's weekly recs and teasers. This week: Duck Rabbit milk stout. http:/magnolia822(dot)blogspot(dot)com/**

**Follow me on Twitter (at) Magnolia822  
**


	5. A New Plan

**A/N: Thanks to Mac214 for her red pen and thoughts on this story! I'm beyond grateful.**

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**"_Sir, if you were my husband, I would poison your drink._"**  
**-Lady Astor to Winston Churchill**  
**"_Madam, if you were my wife, I would drink it._"**  
**-His reply**

**Chapter 5: A New Plan**

"Well, we'd love to see you, Edward."

"I know," I say, wrapping my towel more firmly around my waist. My mother's always known how to call at the most inopportune moments—like when I'm just getting into the shower to take matters into my own hands. Not that that's what I was about to do right now . . . not at all.

"And you're sure everything's all right?"

No. I've never been less sure. Victoria's about to take me for a ride, and I want to take Bella for one. No, I don't. Yes, I do. She looked damn hot on Friday. I think about her phone number on that stupid coaster sitting on my dresser. I haven't seen her since then, and I haven't done anything with the number, either, besides memorize it. It's not exactly something I'm proud to admit.

"Edward?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. We've just been so busy. Maybe next week after the opening." My mother and I have always had a good relationship, though lately I haven't kept in touch the way I probably should. She's pretty good about not hounding me, which I appreciate. "I think we might have a party to celebrate, and, of course, you guys should come."

"Okay, honey. I understand, but make sure you take care of yourself."

"You too. And dad."

My mother chuckles on the other end of the line. "Oh, he does enough of that for the both of us."

"Right." I laugh along with her. My father, the general practitioner, is one of the most conscientious people I know. He's also a notorious hypochondriac. It's never ceased to amaze me how someone who is so proficient and reasonable when dealing with other people's illnesses could be so paranoid and misguided concerning his own health. Once, when I was a kid he was convinced he had stomach cancer, but it turned out after a trip to his own doctor that it was just nervous indigestion. For the past six months he's been extremely worried about giardia in the water supply after seeing a couple of beavers while he was fishing out on the lake. "You don't want beaver fever, Edward," he'd said. "I've seen it. It's not pretty."

That might be true, but there have been absolutely no cases of it in the surrounding area in the past ten years, according to my mother. Still, that didn't stop him from boiling all the water at their house until she agreed to install a high tech water filtration system on all of their taps. It's a good thing mom's one of the most laid back people I know – she indulges him without letting things get out of control.

After we say our goodbyes, I jump in the shower, turning the water on to an almost scalding temperature and making quick work of my morning routine. Well, most of it. I can't jerk off after just speaking to my mother. That's just fucking weird. And anyway, Emmett and I have a lot of shit to do, and I've got to get over to the brewery. It's been a crazy week, full of preparations for the Saturday opening, and I've been working twelve-hour days.

Today's Wednesday, and Bella will be coming in to complete her training. I'm actually pretty satisfied with the way she's handling the beer—and I'd given her an "assignment" last week to do a little research on her own. But today we need to go over the finer details of the job.

I pull on jeans and my old, faded Cullen Creek t-shirt, and by the time I'm ready and out the door, it's only 8:30. There's a fine drizzle coming down, making the late April morning even cooler. I still have time to go into town and pick up some desperately-needed coffee. I'm about to do just that when an idea strikes me . . .what if Bella needs a ride? A ride to work. I'm pretty sure she hasn't fixed her truck yet, since she won't get her first check till Friday. And it's raining.

I could call her to find out.

Yeah, but she's not supposed to be in 'til ten. She could be sleeping for all I know, and I'm sure she's probably made other arrangements. Maybe with Seth or one of her roommates.

Before I know what I'm doing, I'm dialing the number.

"Hello?" comes a sleepy voice from the end of the line. Shit. I did wake her up.

"Hi, Bella. This is Edward Cullen."

There's a small murmur and some rustling on the end of the line, followed by a surprised, "Oh! Hi."

"I'm sorry if I woke you. I'm just calling to see if you need a ride. I'm coming into town before heading up to the brewery."

"Uh . . . that's really nice of you," she says, "but I'm not showered or dressed right now."

My mind immediately goes there. I know she probably doesn't mean she's naked . . . it's just a figure of speech. Right?

"And actually, I'm grabbing a lift with Seth in about an hour. He's coming in at the same time, so we thought it just made sense."

"Of course." Of course it makes sense. Seth's clearly interested in Bella, and for all I know she could be interested in him as well. Maybe they're even dating. I instantly regret the call.

"But thanks for the offer, Edward. And for waking me up, actually. My alarm didn't go off."

"No problem. I'll see you in a while then."

"Okay," she says.

I snap my phone shut and toss it onto the passenger's seat, starting up the truck and pulling out onto the main road. It's certainly not my place to be calling employees to ask them if they need rides—when have I ever done that before? And clearly she has a standing arrangement with Seth. Thinking of Bella Swan in any light other than a purely professional one has got to stop, starting now. I'm frustrated with myself for allowing these thoughts to enter my mind at all. Not only is she my employee, who may or may not be dating another employee, but I also have divorce proceedings hanging over my head. Wouldn't Victoria just love something like this—an inappropriate relationship with a younger woman like Bella—to give her more shit to use against me.

Yeah, perhaps I'm getting a little carried away, considering nothing has happened . . . or will happen . . . between Bella and me, but still. My business is my first priority and doing anything to jeopardize it would be foolish and selfish—after all, I'm not the only one who'd be affected if something went badly. I have my brother to think about, as well as the other employees. No, nothing good could come of this.

Furthermore, Bella hasn't expressed any interest in me beyond mere friendliness. She's flirtatious, sure, but she hadn't acted any differently with me than with anyone else. The image of her thigh brushing against my knee comes unbidden. Along with it, an unwelcome rush of blood travels to my groin, but I force myself to focus on the road ahead.

I'm glad I called after all. It's given me a sort of clarity—Bella is my employee, nothing more, and that's the way it will stay.

I get a coffee from the drive through, picking one up for Emmett as well, and continue on to the brewery, firm in my new resolution. I already feel more in control of the situation.

When I enter, Emmett's busy installing fresh kegs behind the bar. He grins as I set down the coffee in front of him.

"Cream and sugar?" he asks.

"Yep. Girl coffee. Just for you."

"Fuck you."

"No thanks," I say, sitting down on a stool.

"So, we're pretty much all set back here. I'm gonna get Seth to fill up the cooler this afternoon," Emmett says, nodding his head to indicate the currently empty refrigeration unit. "What else?"

"Well, I guess someone should run a pH check on the Three Frog. See how it's coming."

"Alright, I'll do it."

"Thanks."

"You training today?"

"Yep. In a few."

"Cool. What do you have planned for today? More figs?" he asks, raising his eyebrow.

"Um, no."

"Too bad. That was some good shit. I'll have to try that with Rose one of these days."

"_Try_? I wasn't _try_ing anything."

"Right, I forgot," he jokes, slapping me on the back. Why do I feel like I'm never going to live this down?

We adjourn to the office and spend the next hour or so discussing the opening. A few of the guys in town have a band, and we've hired them to play a set or two. We'll have food from the pub, and Emmett thinks we should wrap a ribbon around the bar and do a ribbon cutting ceremony. I'm in the middle of trying to convince him it's a stupid idea when Jasper comes by and surprises us with some of Alice's chocolate chip muffins. I look to him for help.

"Tell him it's a stupid idea, Jasper."

"It doesn't sound that bad to me," he says. Damn traitor. Emmett guffaws, slapping his knee.

"Where the fuck am I gonna get a ribbon that long?" I mutter to myself.

We're so engrossed in work that I'm surprised when Bella knocks tentatively at the office door.

"Hi," she says, peering in. I notice her hair is down again, long and shiny.

"Hey, Bella. Come on in." Emmett beckons to her.

She takes a couple steps inside the office. "So this is the inner sanctum. I feel privileged."

"Yeah, it's not that special," I reply.

"Are you kidding? It's like the bat cave in here. I can imagine you guys plotting secret beer takeovers . . . world domination." Bella purses her lips and looks pointedly at the two-way mirror, and Emmett laughs.

I raise my eyebrow at her as she grins. "It's far less glamorous than that, I can assure you."

"You'll have to excuse Edward." Emmett stands and brushes crumbs off his jeans. "He woke up on the wrong side of the bed today."

"Is that so?" Bella says with a smirk.

"He's been worse but not much. You want a muffin?"

"Ooooh! Are these Alice's? Oh, man, yes." She grabs one off the proffered plate and takes a bite, murmuring appreciatively. Bella sure does know how to express enthusiasm for food. I try to ignore the fact that her lips are shiny again . . . red cherries. "I remember the first time I had one of these bad boys," she says, breaking off another little piece. "It was on the last day of class, and Alice had made them for everyone, cementing her status as the coolest TA in the history of St. Mike's. This shit is legendary."

"They're not bad," I agree reluctantly.

"You love them," Emmett says to me, taking another for himself. "Okay, kids. I'm off. You two get to work now, ya hear?"

"Yes, boss." Bella gives him a salute with her free hand. Once he's gone, she flops down in his chair, spinning around a couple of times.

"So, this all new?" she asks, glancing around.

"Pretty much." We'd renovated the office, making it larger and purchasing new furniture only a month or so before. It's pretty comfortable now.

"It's interesting being back here after being on the other side of that thing," she says, gesturing again to the window. "So I can pretty much be assured I'm under constant surveillance?"

For some reason, her comment puts me on the defensive. "I'll usually have other things to do," I grumble.

"Of course. My bad. So what are we up to today, Edmund?" she asks archly, trying to get a rise out of me with her newfound nickname. Annoying as it is, and despite my impulse to tease her back, I restrain myself. _Professional._

"Well, Emmett put in the kegs. So we'll run through a tasting, I think, and then go over the rest of our policies."

"Sounds good. And I wanted to let you know I read the articles you recommended." I'd given her a couple of websites that outline brewing processes, just to reinforce what she'd learned on the tour, as well as some overviews of beer styles and brands. I'd also suggested she learn a bit about some of our local competitors. Many of our visitors will drop in on several microbreweries in one day since there are five within driving distance, so it's important to know what they specialize in and how we compare. We're all pretty supportive of each other in the local brewing community, but, of course, we're also rivals.

"Good. I hope they were helpful."

"Very. I feel like a beer expert now. Seriously, ask me anything."

"All right . . ." I think carefully for a second. "How many pounds of malt are needed to make a barrel?"

"That's a trick question," she replies proudly, swiveling the chair around to face me and crossing her arms. "It depends on the style of the beer. But for a typical lager, around 25 pounds."

"Well done."

"Another," she demands.

"I wasn't planning on a test, but I can make one up if you'd like."

"On second thought, no thanks. I think I have enough with finals coming up."

"Right. How's that going for you?" I ask, standing up and motioning for her to follow me back out to the bar.

"Pretty good. I mean, I'm taking Molecular and Cellular Biology, and it's freaking hard, but I think I'll do okay. It's a requirement for my major."

"When's the test?"

"End of next week. And I have two others the following Monday, but then I'll be done for the summer, thank God."

"And the Kerouac?" I ask, my curiosity over whether she's finished reading it getting the better of me.

"Read it this weekend." She takes a seat at the bar as I wait expectantly for her to go on.

"And?"

"I still don't like it too much . . . but I guess I can see what you were saying on Friday. That was a good point. You seem to have strong opinions about literature. Can I ask what you majored in?"

"I actually had a double major. Business and history." I walk to the back of the bar and check that the CO2s been added to the kegs. I really should teach Bella to tap one, but it'll either be Emmett, me, or one of the other guys bringing them in from the back room. Still, I make a mental note to show her sometime soon.

"Interesting," she says.

"Why's that?"

"Well, the business degree makes sense with all this," she says, indicating the bar. "But why history?"

"I loved it, but it wasn't a great career choice, I guess. And I always wanted to run my own business."

"Okay, so, then why beer?"

"Actually, I started brewing in college. I got pretty good at it. Started selling it to some of my friends, but then the demand got too intense. Then Emmett joined in; we started making different kinds. By the time I graduated I realized that's what I wanted to do."

"That's pretty cool. It must be fun running it with your brother. He seems like a nice guy," she says.

"He has his moments."

"You seem to like giving each other a hard time."

"He's my brother. We've always been like that," I say, shrugging.

"And Jasper... Alice says you've been friends for a long time. Where did you meet?"

"What is this – twenty questions?"

"Sorry," she says. "I'm being nosey."

"A little," I answer before relenting a bit. "But it's okay. Jasper was my college roommate, actually." I grab a couple of glasses from the shelf under the bar, rinsing them quickly in the sink and toweling them off. I wonder if Bella will share any information about her own roommates, but I'd never ask. "We roomed together for two years and then after we graduated, and when Emmett and I bought this place, he came on to help out. Every year he says he's gonna quit and find a real job, but so far he hasn't."

"It's great you've been friends for so long."

"I'm not _that _old," I say with a small smile.

"You know what I mean. Sometimes I wonder if I'll stay in touch with my friends after I graduate."

"Well, the way I see it, you keep in contact with the people who are worth it. If they're not, fuck 'em."

"Yeah. I'm just really bad with that kind of stuff," she says softly. "Like, for instance, I feel like if I didn't have email I'd never talk to anyone from back home. But my dad, he doesn't like it. He can barely work his laptop, and he hates to email."

"I'm not big on it myself."

"Another thing you guys have in common!" she jokes.

"Hmm," I say wryly, placing the glasses down in front of her. "It probably has something to do with our advanced age."

"Probably."

"Okay, Bella." I say, speaking more authoritatively. We've found ourselves far from the topic at hand—her training—again. For some reason this keeps happening, but I can't let it continue. Not today.

"Bella. Wow. I thought for sure you'd forgotten my name."

She's referring to my prolonged use of "goat girl," but I need to correct the dynamic between us. Nicknames like that really aren't appropriate.

"Well, we're at work now, okay? I need you to focus. We have a lot of stuff to cover today since you can't come in again until the opening. I need to make sure you're prepared to handle it." It's a passive-aggressive dig. After all, I'd known when she started she still had classes, and she frowns a little, nodding stiffly. I feel a little bad, even worse when I realize I sound just like fucking Victoria. It's like I've internalized her underhanded, bullshit techniques, and I don't like it at all. If I want to keep things professional between Bella and me, that's fine, but even I have to admit that I'm not acting that way.

For the next hour, I try to retain a certain distance without being rude as I run her through the more intricate aspects of pouring and serving customers. It's important, too, to making sure she's thoroughly versed in the all the brewery's policies regarding drunkenness, difficult customers, and harassment. Not that I'm expecting many assholes up here, but it's been known to happen. Sometimes a party of guys will come in, maybe a bachelor party or some such shit, and give the bartender a hard time . . . especially if it's a girl.

"If anyone bothers you, most of the time Emmett or I will be around or in the office. We'll keep an eye on things, but there's a phone, behind the bar if you need to use it."

"I think I can handle it," she replies defensively. "I might be a chick, but I have a mean right hook." She raises her small fist, and I almost laugh . . . her arm is so thin, and she's holding her thumb the wrong way.

"Well, try not to use it on the customers," I say, "unless it's absolutely necessary. And always keep your thumb outside of your other fingers." I ball my hand in demonstration. "Punch someone like that," I gesture to her hand, "and you're bound to break it."

"I know that. My dad's a cop. It was just a joke, Edward," she says, emphasizing my name a little with a roll of her eyes.

This is news to me, but I just shrug. "Right." So we're back to proper names. Bella seems to have gotten the message. Good. I should be glad.

For the rest of the day, we don't speak much. Bella stays to help out with some of the clean up and helps Seth load up the cooler with fresh six packs and growlers. I polish the bar, trying not to be aggravated by the way they talk and joke as they work. Bella has a nice laugh—it's not high-pitched or squeaky or loud—but it's uninhibited. It lights up her whole face in this way that makes her seem genuinely happy. Seth seems completely smitten with her, but I can't gauge how she feels as I watch them out of the corner of my eye. She seems to like him well enough. Good. Good.

Finally, there doesn't seem to be anything left for either of them to do, and I give them leave to go. Bella says goodbye but doesn't smile or wave like she usually does. Seth seems in good spirits, however, opening the door for her and grinning as she walks through. Good.

I should be glad.

But I'm not.

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**A/N: Let me know what you think of Edward's new strategy. I'd love to hear from you!**


	6. Up Cullen's Creek

**A/N: Thanks to Mac214 for her red pen and advice—I'm truly grateful.**

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"**When you invite the whole world to your party, inevitably someone pees in the beer." –Xeni Jardin**

**Chapter 6: Up Cullen's Creek**

My boots sink into the mud the second I take a step outside my door on the morning of the opening. Even though it rained like hell last night, it's sunny and unseasonably warm today, and I feel pretty good about that . . . lucky. It's not unusual for it to snow on the first of May in Vermont, but with the sun heating things up, I'm optimistic things will dry up before too long. It doesn't really matter, though: Vermonters are a hearty bunch. Everyone who lives in this state owns a pair of shit kickers—I think buying a pair of steel toes must be a sort of residency requirement.

Though the festivities won't begin for a couple hours, I head over to the brewery at ten o'clock, eager to get out of my house and start the day. I've asked the rest of the staff to get there early to set up. Emmett's going to be grilling outside, and we'll need to make sure all the food is ready, as well as wrap that stupid fucking ribbon around the bar. Seth and Garrett will be on hand for tours, and, of course, Bella will be there for today's free tasting. I haven't seen her since Wednesday, but I'm mostly sure she'll be able to handle it. Melanie will be on hand if things get too busy.

Now all we need are some people to actually show the fuck up, and we'll be golden.

As I drive, my thoughts drift back to my conversation with Jenks the day before. It's the last thing I want to remember right now, but I can't help it. I've been going crazy trying to come up with reasons to answer the questions my lawyer had posed, and so far I'd come up with nothing.

What he'd had to say did nothing to lift my undeniably shitty mood. Apparently, Victoria's lawyers had contacted him, restating and reaffirming her previous demands. She was not backing down . . . at all. We were supposed to be meeting again in a couple weeks, but since negotiations were clearly at a stalemate, Jenks advised pushing the meeting back another month or so. It looked more and more like we'd be going to court, and the earliest we'd get on the docket was July . . . August at the latest.

_Fucking August_. How long can I stand living with this hanging over my head? If she could just agree to a more reasonable settlement, I'd happily give it to her at this point. But there's no way I'm giving her half my monthly salary. NO fucking way.

Jenks is worried. He's convinced Victoria has something up her sleeve—some dirt on me that's giving her unusual confidence—but I can't imagine what it is. I've never hit her, slept around on her, or treated her badly. Sure we fought, but she always gave as good as she got. Better, as far as I can tell.

He asked me if I had anything incriminating to level against her—I almost laughed. Does being a raging bitch count?

Apparently not.

I'm overwhelmed with the desire to punch something, anything, and at a red light I settle on my dashboard.

Fuck. That hurt. And it doesn't do anything to alleviate my anger.

How does someone go from being your best friend, your wife, to your biggest enemy in a little over a year? I mean, I know how . . . I was there for most of it. But _how?_ Was she always like this, or had I just never really seen the real Victoria? We'd known each other for over twelve years! And now, for her to be enjoying sticking it to me like this . . . it's painful. Am I really that bad a judge of character?

But one thing's for sure . . . I'm more convinced than ever I made the right decision in preventing anything romantic from happening between Bella and me. Whether or not Victoria actually has any ammunition against me, that would certainly have given her some. And if my judgment of Victoria was so off base, what's to say I haven't misjudged Bella, too? I just met her two weeks ago. For all I know she could be Victoria's spy, sent to ensure I fuck up.

Now I'm paranoid, too.

I'm obviously not in the position to be pursuing anything with anyone, even though my dick's about to fall off from under use. But maybe Jasper's right. Would sleeping with Melanie really be so bad? She's closer to my age, and I know where she stands; she wouldn't be looking for anything serious. But yeah, she's an employee too. I'm not about to break policy just to get off.

Thinking of her giant tits and fake blonde hair doesn't do anything for me, anyway. My mind goes right to cherries. Long, silky brown hair and wide eyes.

I am so fucked up.

Luckily, my arrival at the brewery stops me from thinking about how much. I park near the other cars on the far side of the entrance and hop out of the cab, wincing a little at the residual pain in my hand. Hitting the dashboard-not a good idea.

Some of the others have already arrived. Jasper and Emmett are busy setting up Jas' propane grill—it's a huge and cumbersome contraption, but it cooks a fuckload of food at once. I wonder if they picked up any veggie burgers at the store like I told them to.

Alice stands a little way off putting unnecessary table clothes and decorations on our picnic tables. I'd told her not to bother, but when's the last time Alice actually listened to me? I have to admit, though, whatever she's doing looks pretty nice.

"Hey, Edward, give me a hand?" Rose's voice calls from behind me. She wrestles with a giant blue cooler near the open trunk of her hatchback, her long blonde hair obscuring her face. After giving Emmett and Jasper a wave, I jog over to help her hoist it out. It might be the heaviest cooler in the history of coolers.

"Jesus," I grit out, the muscles in my back straining with the effort, "what the hell do you have in here?"

"Ice, duh." She rolls her eyes as we set it down on the gravel.

"Ever thought of maybe putting the ice in after it's in place?"

She throws her hands up. "Blame Emmett, not me."

Before I can respond I'm distracted by a rumbling noise in the distance. Rose cranes her head in the same direction—it sounds like a reincarnated dinosaur.

When the object in question enters my line of sight, I chuckle and shake my head. It IS a reincarnated dinosaur—Bella's truck. The girl in question is seated in the cab of the oldest, ugliest, rustiest Chevy flatbed I've ever seen moving of its own volition.

Snippets of a conversation come back to me; she'd told Seth last week the truck was going into the shop after she got paid, and she probably wouldn't need a ride today if all went well. I experience a little jolt of unwanted gladness that things apparently had.

Sort of. The thing sounds about as trustworthy as a two-dollar hooker. She can't really be planning on driving that thing at night?

Bella pulls up next to Rose and stills the engine, blessed silence returning once again. She hops out and smiles tentatively in our direction.

"I got it fixed," she explains.

"Yeah, well, you might want to get your money back. If that's fixed, I hate to hear what broken sounds like." I can't resist the joke, but she doesn't bat an eye.

"Don't hate on Ringo."

"Ringo?" Rose asks.

"Ringo Starr. My truck." Bella pats the door, and the metal echoes hollowly.

"You named your truck after one of the Beatles," I say in disbelief. She nods. "I thought you didn't like classic rock."

"Some music is timeless," Bella replies. "And doesn't he just look like a Ringo to you?"

I consider the truck. "'He looks more like Keith Richards on a bad day."

"Keith Richards? Who's that?" Bella raises her voice sarcastically.

"Good one, Bella." Rose pats her on the arm. How the hell? Rose knows her too? Was I the only fucker in Burlington who didn't know Bella Swan?

"No offense meant," I say, throwing my hands up in surrender. "It's just surprising."

Bella shuffles a little on her feet, digging her heel down into the stones. She's wearing her Doc Martins. Shit kickers. "Yeah, well . . . you guys need some help?"

"That would be great - thanks." Rose motions to bags of groceries still in the back of her car. "Edward and Emmett are expecting the Mongolian hordes."

"You never know." I shrug. To be honest, I don't know how many people will actually show up, but it's best to be prepared. Bella leans down to grab a couple bags, and I turn away before the temptation to look at her ass takes over. Fuck, I'm already tempted. She always wears really tight jeans, and I already know her ass looks great packaged in denim.

"Where to?" she asks, straightening up. Her demeanor is all business now, just as it should be.

"The picnic table - near Jasper and Emmett." Bella nods, and she and Rosalie leave me to wrestle the cooler by myself.

The rest of the morning goes by quickly as we finalize preparations. The band arrives at a little after eleven, and I greet Liam, who's back from his vacation. He's also the bass player - and a pretty talented one at that. Once everything outside is under control, I decide it's time for Bella and me to go inside and get things set up at the bar. She's over talking to Seth and Alice with her back to me as I approach. The day has turned from warm to hot. I notice Bella has knotted her Cullen Creek at her right side, leaving just a sliver of bare white skin between her shirt and jeans. I curse myself for noticing and even consider asking her to take it down . . . but it's cute. The only thing she's doing wrong is distracting me.

Just as I arrive, the three of them burst out laughing. Seth wraps his arm around Bella's shoulders and pulls her close, and her shirt slips up a little more. She responds by slinging her arm around his lower back. They look quite cozy.

"Oh, hey, Edward," Seth says with a nod as he composes himself. It's irritating, the way he says hello like it's an afterthought. I should fire his ass.

"Hi," I say, a little tersely. Bella and Seth release each other and eye me expectantly. "Bella, it's time for us to get the bar set up."

"Sounds good. Be there in a sec."

I walk away, and she catches up a few seconds later after she's said her goodbyes.

"It's a great day, isn't it?" she says, smiling and casting her arms out wide. "I wish I could stay out here all day and soak up the sun."

"Yeah," I murmur, trying to shake off my annoyance. If they're dating, I hope they can keep things professional at work. "It's a good day for it."

"Well, I'm glad it stopped raining for the band, at least."

"And the grill," I add.

Bella wrinkles her nose a little. "I'll just have a bun, thanks."

"So, you're one of those vegetarians who won't eat anything off a grill if there's meat on it?"

"No. I will. I just didn't figure there were any veggie options."

"There should be. I told Rose and Em." I open the door and prop it open with a rock. She's right. It's a nice day, and we should let some air into the place.

"You told them - for me?" Her voice holds a touch of surprise, lilting up at the end as if she can't quite believe I'm not a total dick.

"You don't eat meat," I grumble. "And you shouldn't just be eating white bread." I'm thinking of the cheap-ass Wonder bread Emmett's no doubt bought. "That shit's no good for you."

Bella doesn't respond with any of her usual snarky comments as we enter, and I duck under the divider, gesturing her under. She follows me, lifting the wood panel.

"Thanks, Edward," she says gratefully, looking up at me with wide, brown eyes. "People around here love grilling out, and I just never know if there'll be anything for me to eat. I've gotten pretty used to buns and ketchup." She cocks her head a little to the side, and I feel uncomfortable. They're just nasty tofu burgers, for God's sake.

"It's nothing, really," I reply dismissively. "We needed a vegetarian option, anyway." One little box of burgers isn't gonna break the bank.

"Okay," she says, her eyes lowering.

We move in concert behind the bar, making sure all the kegs are in order and all the glasses are clean. Maybe I'm a little anal, but I want things to be perfect, at least today. Though we don't talk a lot, the atmosphere is easy between us. Bella seems to know what needs to be done almost before I do. Every one of her confident movements chips away at any residual trepidation I might have about her working the taps. I try to strike a balance between talking and working that doesn't involve too much joking or . . . flirting, but it's difficult. She's unconsciously hilarious, though more restrained than she's been in the past, and more than once I find myself wanting to play along with her to restore our original dynamic. But I know once I do that, it's a slippery slope back to inappropriate.

_You're already there_, a little voice whispers in my head. I ignore it, reminding myself it's actions that count, not thoughts.

_Keep telling yourself that, asshole. _

Because right now, with the way Bella's shirt keeps rising and falling, giving me a glimpse of her smooth bell, my thoughts are crossing a line. At one point she gets her boot caught on the rubber drainage mat behind the bar, and I reach out my hand to steady her, inadvertently brushing that soft swath of bare skin. And I know the only answer is for me to get the hell out of here; even when I pull away two seconds later, I can still feel her warmth on my hand . . . and stirrings of warmth somewhere else.

Thankfully, my brother saves me when he enters with the bag from the craft store I'd left on the seat of my pickup. Yeah, I'd given in and bought 70 feet of satin red ribbon. Going into the store downtown and making the purchase was painful - not because I was worried about my manhood or some shit like that. No, it was painful because that crap cost almost two hundred dollars, and now we're just gonna wrap it around the bar and cut it. Makes no sense to me.

"Perfect," Emmett says, unrolling the ribbon along the top of the bar.

"Oooh." Bella fingers the material. "What're you gonna do with this?"

"Well," Emmett replies, "it's for the ribbon cutting ceremony—"

"The_ stupid_ ribbon cutting ceremony," I interrupt.

"But I'm thinking it might look nicer wrapped around something else." He nods his head toward the door. Rosalie stands just beyond, talking to the band with a beer in her hand. Bella laughs, and I shake my head, muttering to myself. Talk about inappropriate, Emmett. Apparently it runs in the family.

"Well, you should save some," Bella suggests with an impish grin. "She'd probably go for it."

"Now _that's_ why I hired you, B. You're full of good ideas," Emmett jokes.

"Ideas, experience, whatever you wanna call it." She shrugs, smiling pseudo-innocently at the two of us, and I have to consciously close my mouth. And here I was worried she'd be an uptight, religious prude. Hah!

Emmett laughs and reaches over to tousle her hair, and Bella yelps, swatting him away. Then she goes back to wiping the bar down while he proceeds to make a mess of the ribbon or, should I say, my life's savings. But there's nothing I can do. Once the image is there, it's fucking there. Swaths of red ribbon wrapped around Bella's body, clinging to her warm, soft skin, restraining her, but only slightly, as I lick and suck my way. . .

Fuck. Now I definitely have a problem.

I mumble excuses about going to do paperwork in the office for a few, but neither of them pay me any attention, which is good since I'm sporting a hard-on even the blind could see.

For a second I even consider making use of the brewery's bathroom to get myself under control, feeling more than a little disgusted with myself. I'm lusting after a twenty-two year old girl, for God's sakes; I'm like a case study on male mid-life crises. Yeah, I know I'm not that old yet, but I _feel_ old.

I start to catalogue things guaranteed to make my cock deflate. Margaret Thatcher naked on a cold day, I think, remembering the line from _Austin Powers_.

Victoria. Yep, that should do it.

Seth's arm around Bella's waist.

The fact she's my fucking employee.

Divorce.

Yep. Now I'm good to go. Depressed but good to go.

Through the mirror I notice people have started to filter in—now it's time to focus. I can't be distracted like this on such an important day. If Bella's gonna work here, I know what I have to do: avoid her.

For the rest of the day, that's what I do. It's not very hard; I'm extremely busy meeting new customers and chatting with old town friends. The turnout isn't gigantic, but it's still more than I expected. At around two I figure there's over a hundred people. We go through the food—veggie burgers and all—as the band plays. Some people dance the Vermont hippie dance, as I like to call it, swaying to extended guitar solos. Jam music isn't exactly my favorite, but it suits the event and the crowd.

Alice gets the scissors out, and we perform a half-assed ribbon cutting ceremony while a couple dozen visitors look on and clap. I don't know what happens to the ribbon afterwards, and, really I don't want to know.

It's not just me that's busy—all of the staff is. Melanie shows up with some guy, her latest fling, and assists Bella when the bar gets too crowded. While Jasper mans the grill, Seth and Garrett are occupied giving brewery tours. Emmett and I even get some compliments from local brewers impressed with the works. These are the people I talk shop with—everything from filtration systems to distribution—and I find myself immersed in several lengthy conversations that would probably bore or confuse anyone not in the business. But to me, it's fucking fun. I love discussing different brewing techniques, getting updates from other brew-masters about their seasonals, talking about plans for the upcoming beer fest in June. Time flies, and before I know it half the day is gone.

Some people leave and others arrive. The band takes a break, and I get them a round of beers, chatting for a minute with Liam—he gives me a short run-down of the goings on at the bar and a few highlights from his trip. Fucker went skiing in Aspen.

Later still, as the crowd thins out, I relax a little; I even have a beer myself, poured to expert perfection by none other than Bella Swan.

She's doing an amazing job. Better than I thought she would. Not only is she quick on her feet, she's also wonderful with the customers, giving each one attention without losing her beat, pouring accurately, and describing the properties of our beers with enthusiasm to those who ask. Even when Melanie leaves for the day, she continues to be cool and collected.

"Not bad, huh?" Alice says, startling me from my seated position at one of the high tops. The day is winding down, and I'm going over some numbers. Bella's talking to a couple of town guys at the bar—they're the only ones left. They're clearly enjoying her company.

"What?" I ask.

"Bella. She did well."

"Very well."

"That's better than 'not too bad'." She raises her eyebrow, and I vaguely recall our conversation from the previous week.

"It is."

"You're a man of effusive praise, Edward." Alice rolls her eyes. "Anyway, I gotta get going. Jas and Em are cleaning up the grill and then Jasper and I are headed out. You need anything else?"

"No," I say, my eyes drifting back to Bella and company. I'm pretty sure one of them has asked her for her number. She appears to be joking her way out of it. Alice chatters on, and when I don't respond she emits an annoyed noise.

"You're not listening to me."

"Yeah, yeah. I am. Sorry. Thanks for your help, but Emmett and I'll take care of the rest."

"Okay." She pauses a second. "You did a great job today, by the way. It irritates me to admit it."

"Gee, thanks. What was that you said about effusive praise?" I ask with a smirk.

"You're welcome," Alice replies, punching my shoulder. I return to sipping my beer and glancing down at the paperwork. Bella's laughter distracts me, however, and I'm just about to retreat to my office when I see her write something down on a coaster and slide it over to one of the guys—one of our regulars down at the pub. Apparently, this is one of her "moves." The dude's an idiot and even older than me. Irrational anger bubbles up inside, and I take another sip of my pint. It's none of my damn business who she gives her number to.

Emmett comes in and slaps me on the back just as the two guys leave. The one who has the number holds it up and gives Bella a wink and gunpoint as he retreats. Real slick, cowboy.

"Whew. I'm beat," Emmett says, pulling up a stool. Bella's collecting glasses and rinsing them out now, smiling a little to herself. I guess she's pleased she's got herself a date. For a minute I consider Seth—he's already left for the day. Poor, miserable bastard.

"Yeah." I down the rest of my beer in a large gulp.

"Whoa, Ed." Emmett says. I shrug. "Anyway, I think Rose and I are gonna head out, if that's okay."

Looking around the bar, I realize most of the clean up is already done. I can handle the rest on my own, I suppose. And anyway, it's still early. I'd rather have something to do than return to my empty house.

"Yeah, it's fine. I'll finish up here."

"I can help clean up," Bella says, approaching us. "I don't have anywhere to be."

"Thanks, B. That cool, Ed?" Emmett stands again, sliding the stool under the table. It grinds on the floor, and I wince. I fucking hate that sound.

"Yep. It's fine. But really, Bella, you don't need to stay. Feel free to take off."

"No, seriously. I'll just be bored if I go home."

I have to restrain myself from asking her why she doesn't call up one of her new friends. Then she'd know I'd been watching her.

"Okay. Well, it shouldn't take long anyway."

Emmett gives my back another slap and says goodbye to Bella, and then it's just the two of us. Great. So far, the plan isn't going, well, according to plan. But what the hell can I do about it?

Without a word, I turn and make my way to the supply closet. Might as well mop the floor since it's covered in beer.

"My God," Bella says from behind me as I retrieve the bucket, "I thought those guys would never leave." She sighs loudly.

"Oh yeah?" I ask, pretending not to know what she's talking about. No way I'm fucking jealous of the townies.

"They were pretty irritating. Some guys just won't take 'no' for an answer."

I don't reply, but now I'm confused.

"I had to pull an Alice," she says, as if I know what the hell that is.

"An Alice?" I ask, my curiosity piqued.

"Yeah, an Alice. It's when you give someone your number with one digit off to get them off your back. Then they're happy, and you're off the hook. Alice used to do it all the time in college, apparently. Thus the name."

So, she didn't give the moron her number. I don't know whether to be pleased or annoyed that she could be so conniving.

"That's pretty cold," I say, but the tone of my voice betrays my increasing amusement.

"Maybe. But what else are you gonna do when a guy won't leave you alone? I'd rather give a wrong number than continue the conversation, you know?"

"Not really," I reply, feeling a little bad for the guy. Just a little.

"That's because you're a man. If you aren't interested in a woman, you can just say 'no, thanks'. Girls understand that. But some guys think girls play hard to get or something—they can be pretty persistent. Frankly, it can get annoying." I come around the bar with the bucket and start filling it up with hot, soapy water.

I guess I'd never thought about it before, but I can sort of see her point. "Poor guy. I'm sure he'll be devastated," I say half-jokingly. "Aren't you afraid you'll run into them again? It's a small town."

"Nah, not really," she says. "If he does call, he'll get the message pretty quick. I mean, I guess I feel a little bad . . . I hadn't really thought of hurting anyone's feelings." She frowns a little, going back to loading the glass washer.

I can't stop thinking about the fact she had given me her number . . . _her real number._

Yeah, because you're her boss.

_But the thigh brush. _

Accidental.

"I wouldn't worry about it," I finally say. If the dumb-asses couldn't get the message, they don't deserve sympathy.

"Shit. It probably won't look very good for the brewery, will it?" she asks a bit nervously.

"Honestly, Bella, it's not your job to go out with the customers if you don't want to. You'll probably get a lot of interest, though. Melanie does. You'll just have to maybe come up with another technique for deflection, so the whole town doesn't wind up with your wrong number." As I speak I walk around the bar and mop over the floor, moving the stools aside for better access.

"The whole town? Please," she says softly. There's modesty in her voice, like she can't quite believe so many men would be interested in her. It seems plain to me. She's fucking adorable.

I shrug. "What can I say? Men are animals." And I'm one of them.

"Well, I can see why Melanie would," Bella says thoughtfully. "She's got quite the rack."

I snort. "Does she?"

"Oh, come on, Edward. Don't tell me you haven't noticed. Her boobs are gargantuan. Alice and I joke that they must have their own zip code."

Dangerous territory. _Tread lightly_. How did we get here again?

"I don't make it a habit of noticing or talking about my employees in that way," I say firmly.

"Of course," Bella says.

Now her head is bent down, and I can't see her face. She probably thinks she's offended me. Why couldn't I just dismiss her comment offhandedly without making a big deal about it?

We continue to clean up in silence, and once I'm done with the floor I slide all the stools back into place and give the high tops a quick wipe down. Bella finishes up behind the bar, her face pensive. I wonder if she's wondering about my erratic behavior . . . one second I'm teasing her and the next I'm a dick. It's not her fault I don't know how to act around her.

I feel the overwhelming need to smooth things over, so once I'm satisfied things are as clean as they'll get, and disposed of my cleaning supplies, I pour a Raz Wheat for her and a Three Frog for me: half-pints, since we're both driving, after all.

She looks over curiously from the other end of the bar, and I gesture her over, sliding her the beer.

"You did really good today. I was impressed."

Her face flushes a lovely pink color as she takes her glass in hand.

"Cheers," I say, raising mine.

"Cheers," she echoes, clinking my glass and taking a deep sip. She sighs and bite-licks the little bit of foam from her top lip, wiping the wetness with the back of her hand.

"Listen, Edward. I'm sorry." Her statement surprises me. I have no idea what she means.

"For what?"

"I'm always saying inappropriate things. I don't mean to make you uncomfortable or anything."

Her ambiguous statement leaves me reeling—has she noticed my interest in her? Fuck. This isn't good.

"And I know you like to keep things professional, so I'll try not to joke around as much." She thinks she's the one who's inappropriate? I'm still confused. She looks away now, a little frown on her face. I have the urge to reach out and touch her, but instead I grip my glass tighter. But I don't know what to say—I do want to keep things professional, after all, but I also don't want her to feel like she's walking on eggshells around me. There has to be some sort of a compromise.

"Bella, you're fine. Really. I'm just not used to the whole joking thing. And I really shouldn't be discussing some topics with you." I'm thinking specifically of other employees' boobs. And hers. Fuck.

"Oh, well, you seem to kid around with the others . . . I just thought . . . " she trails off.

Thinking for a second, I realize she's right . . . I do joke around with Jasper, Emmett, Rose, and Alice. Even Melanie. But it's different with Bella.

I enjoy myself too much.

I'm just about to come up with some sort of explanation when she starts talking again.

"It's fine. I understand. You don't know me, really. You think I'm young and all that. I just thought we got along together pretty well. But I get it; I really do."

Again, she's caught me off guard. Get what? It's true; we get along great. When I let my guard down and just talk to her, that is . . . but it's also dangerous. And is she talking about our professional relationship or something else?

"Bella, I . . ."

She sets down the rest of her pint with a little sigh, leaving it undrunk. "You don't have to say anything. I'm so glad I have this job. You have no idea how much I need it. Anyway, I guess I'll get going," she says, grabbing her bag from behind the bar. "Good job today, by the way. From what I heard around the bar, people were really impressed."

"Thanks." I smile a little at the praise and follow her to the door.

The sun is setting, and the rapidly cooling air makes Bella shiver a little; she unknots her shirt, and it falls down, wrinkled and bunched at her side.

"Goodnight, Edward," she says softly.

"'Night."

She looks back once from beside her truck before she drives away.

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**Please let me know what you think! Reviews are nearly as good as having a beer with Edward. ;)**


	7. Germination

**A/N: Thanks to Mac214 for her red pen and advice—I'm truly grateful.**

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**"A woman drove me to drink and I didn't even have the decency to thank her."  
-W.C. Fields**

**Chapter 7: Germination**

Three weeks after the opening, things are running smoothly. With Liam back at the pub and Bella out of school and doing well with the tastings, I can get back to doing what I love to do—brew beer. Emmett and I have been trying to come up with ideas for a new variety since each week demand increases. We go through a delivery of two-row barley every week now, keeping our Canadian supplier happily busy. _Incredible_, I think as I carefully make my way around the hoses on the conditioning room floor; just two years ago we operated at under a quarter of that production rate.

So far, though, we haven't agreed about what type of beer to add to our lineup. I'd like to do a beer with a darker malt and a more complex flavor profile, but Emmett thinks we need a traditional lager to appeal to a wide range of palates. I hate to admit it, but he might have a point. Whatever happens, I refuse to brew piss-beer, despite the popularity of some of them.

Today I'm inoculating the wort for a fresh batch of Night Owl Oatmeal Porter. I love getting my hands dirty again and being in the factory.

Back in the cold room I grab two four-pound buckets of the yeasty concoction and make my way to the fermentation tank. This is why brewing beer fascinates me—everything depends on measured control. If the wort gets too hot, it'll kill off the yeast—too cold, and it won't produce alcohol. If the fermentation goes on too long and the gases reabsorb into the beer, I'll end up with a funky-smelling end product. Historically, beer probably tasted and smelled like shit—we've learned so much about chemical reactions and properties in the last hundred years, I feel sorry for the poor bastards of yesteryear.

Each step of the process requires skill and precision. We don't leave anything to chance.

I'm just about at the top of the tank ladder when a voice calls out from below, startling me. My boots nearly slip on a rung, and I mutter a string of curses, hoisting the buckets to the top platform and glaring down.

It's Bella.

Ever since our "talk," or whatever it was, Bella has been a stellar, dedicated employee. She's also given me a noticeably wider berth. When we talk, our conversation centers on brewery business alone. While her relationships with Jasper and Emmett appear natural and friendly, with me she's formal. Professional.

It's just what I wanted.

I've respected the distance too, careful not to pay her too much attention except to observe her progress as an employee. At least that's what I tell myself.

The truth is that I've seen a lot of Bella from behind the dividing mirror—and the more I see of her, the more she fascinates me.

Though she's quick to joke and laugh, she's neither as foolish nor immature as I originally thought. She likes to make people laugh, and she doesn't take herself too seriously. Her style of humor is often self-deprecating, and I wonder if it's sort of a defense mechanism.

And then there are little things. When a customer has a dog tied up outside, Bella offers the use of a water dish she brought for that explicit purpose. Customers tell her about their lives, show her pictures of their kids, and she listens intently, asking them questions and appearing genuinely interested. She always arrives on time, and she never leaves in the evening until everything in the tasting room is perfect.

When she doesn't think anyone's around, she gets a strange, thoughtful look in her dark eyes. Then I feel guilty for watching and go back to my business but not without wondering what she's thinking about.

"Edward?" she calls again, bringing me back to the present moment.

She stands with her hands in her pockets, looking up at me with an anxious expression. "Sorry! I don't mean to bother you. It's just the hefe's tapped, and we're opening in a few. I couldn't find Em . . ."

I hate that talking to me makes her so nervous. "All right. I'll be right down. This'll only take a minute," I call. She nods and crosses her arms, watching me quizzically.

"What're you doing up there?" she asks just as I'm about to open the tank.

"Adding the yeast." I gesture to one of the buckets.

"Oh. Cool," she says, her voice hopeful. She wants to come see, and, really, it would probably be good for her to get more familiar with the process.

"You wanna help?" I ask hesitantly, glancing around. Though the platform can fit two adults without danger of falling, there's really not much room up here. But before I can say another word, Bella begins climbing up the ladder with determination, her hands gripping the slippery rungs tightly.

"Careful," I warn, stepping to the side to grant her access. When she's at the top, I reach out to help her the rest of the way. Her hand feels so small in mine—delicate, like if I squeezed it too hard it might break. She huffs a little with the exertion, straightening up as I release her. From this vantage point, we can see the tops of all the conditioning and fermenting tanks—not exactly a breathtaking sight but pretty cool nonetheless. I open the latch and remove the cover.

"Neat," she says, glancing around. Yeah, it's a tight fit with Bella up here too. Her side brushes against my front as she turns to peer down into the tank filled with wort.

"Sorry," she says quickly at the contact. I manage a dismissive grunt.

"I forgot you've never been up here," I reply dumbly, cursing myself for being so affected by her close proximity. I try to put a little space between us, but there's really no room to move.

"Wow. Now that's a lot of beer."

"It's actually not yet. Basically, it's only a sugar solution. Once we add this stuff," I say, toeing the bucket near our feet, "it'll start changing to beer."

"The yeast eats the sugar, right?" she asks, still looking down. Her hair sweeps over her shoulders, dangling over the opening, and I reach out to brush it back. It's almost an unconscious reaction—I don't want any loose pieces to fall into the wort—but my hand lingers too long, mesmerized by the silky strands. So soft and fine.

Bella looks back over her shoulder and blushes, collecting her hair in her other hand as I start to explain myself. Fortunately she seems to understand, hastily securing it with the black elastic she always wears around her wrist.

"Sorry. I should have this in a ponytail. People probably don't want my hair in their beer."

"Probably." But maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Her hair is so clean and shiny. "Better yours than mine."

What the fuck? Did I just say that out loud?

I think she murmurs something like, "Yours isn't so bad," but she says it too quietly for me to be sure. And the situation is officially awkward.

She smiles a little and looks down towards the buckets as I try to remember what she asked before the whole hair thing. Right. The yeast.

"But yeah. The yeast eats the sugar and converts it to alcohol."

"Like making bread."

"Pretty much. But better."

"Better? How so?"

"Bread doesn't get you drunk," I joke.

"Good point," Bella agrees. "So. We gonna do this thing?"

"Of course."

I pass her one of the buckets and tell her to undo the lid as I do the same.

She sniffs the contents and turns to me with concerned look. "It looks like yogurt."

"Yeah. I guess it does."

"I hate yogurt."

"How is that possible? I thought all chi . . . girls liked it."

"Not this one," she says with just a touch of irritation. "You sure are fond of generalizing about what _women_ like."

I chuckle. "Sorry. Not all _women_ like yogurt. Got it. But I've noticed sort of a trend with you . . . no goat cheese, no yogurt. Any dairy products you like?"

"Ice cream. And I do kinda like goat cheese now. With the figs and the honey," she amends a little shyly.

"Ah, yes, I forgot about your conversion."

"I wouldn't call it a conversion."

"What would you call it, then?"

She considers my question for a second. "A slight change in perception."

"All thanks to me," I reply smugly.

"You might have had something to do with it."

Is it really so bad for us to be talking like this? It's so easy. I feel more relaxed than I have in a while . . . maybe I've been a little too extreme with the whole "professional distance" thing. She talks to Emmett and Jasper, for fucks's sake. Why can't I talk to her?

Bella's next question brings me back to the moment. "Now what do we do?"

"We pour it in," I reply. Bella looks at me like I'm a little crazy as I unceremoniously dump my bucket into the tank.

"Really? That's it?"

"Yep, go ahead."

She follows suit with a cute, surprised sound, shaking the nearly empty bucket to remove any residual yeast.

"That was pretty fun," she says. "It reminds me of when I was a kid. I used to get into the pantry and make all kinds of concoctions. My mom would pretend to eat them, but they were really disgusting."

"Sounds like a good mom."

Bella nods quickly, changing the subject. "So what happens now?"

"Don't you remember your homework, goat girl?" I don't know how the words escape my mouth, but her old nickname hangs in the air now, making things weird again. Why did it even occur to me to use it? Bella looks at me strangely for a second before glancing away.

"Hmm . . . now it sits like that for a while. A couple weeks?"

"Yes, until fermentation finishes. Once the yeast eats all of the sugars, it gets kinda sluggish, and some of it settles to the bottom. We cool the mixture down to deactivate any yeast that's still active. The rest floats to the top, and we skim it off. Then it goes back in the fridge for the next batch of beer." There's a little more to it, but those are the basics. Bella looks satisfied, nodding as I speak.

"How did you learn all this stuff?" she asks finally.

"Brewing Beer for Dummies."

A grin lights up her face. "Ha, ha Ed . . . ward."

The little slip in the way she says my name indicates she was about to call me something else and thought better of it. Hell, she's probably confused about why I'm changing the rules once again. Is that what I'm doing?

Bella helps me close the tank lid, and the two of us make our way down the ladder. I go first, so of course when she climbs down I have a perfect view of her round ass in those damn tight jeans. Her hips sway back and forth as her feet alternate on the rungs, and I very nearly inappropriately groan before looking away. Perfection.

The sight, and my reaction to it, is more than enough to remind me about the reason for the whole "professional distance" thing.

But I'm tired of drawing that line in the sand again and again—and very possibly making my desires even more obvious by singling her out among all the other employees. The fact is I like Bella as a person. Her enthusiasm has injected some life into this place. The customers love her. She gets along great with everyone else. Hell, she's friends with my brother and best friend and their girlfriends. Though I never join them, I know for a fact she hangs out with them on a regular basis. Nothing can be done about the rest of it, but that's okay. Over-thinking things hasn't helped me so far, anyway.

Maybe if I just relax . . . stop worrying so much.

_Relax,_ my inner voice scoffs. _When's the last time you did that?_

When I was happy.

Bella hops off the last rung, turning with a flourish and a smile, which I match hesitantly.

"Thanks," she says. "That was interesting, though I'll never think about beer the same way now that I know it's made with yogurt."

"No problem," I mumble. "But if it makes you feel any better, it's not actually yogurt."

"I know that. I'm just kidding," she says with a small, wary smile. Right. Relax. Lighten up.

"It is a little weird, though."

"Yeah, well, we better get going," she reminds me, her voice quiet now. "We're opening in ten." I'd forgotten the reason she came back here—a keg needs changing. Right.

As we walk to the front, we pass some of the guys out in the bottling area. Seth is among them; he shouts Bella a greeting over the din of the labeling machine, and she answers back with a smile and a wave. The kid seems pretty determined to pursue something with her. Something tells me that, for now, they're still only friends. But with his persistence, who knows how long that will last?

On the way, I grab the dolly from the storeroom while Bella waits.

"The hefe, you said?" I call behind me as I roll it towards the cooler.

"Yeah, thanks."

"All right. Go ahead and open up. I'll be right there."

A few minutes later I join Bella behind the bar, watching with approval as she makes quick work of tapping the keg. I'd shown her a couple days after the opening.

"You're getting the hang of it," I say. She straightens up, and I help her lift the empty keg onto the dolly.

"I think so," she replies simply.

"Good. That's good," I mutter. Now that we're back out here, there's nothing else for me to do, and there's no reason for me to stay. But I don't want to leave. I think about making some excuse about something that needs to be done in the bar, just to continue our conversation from before. I want her to be at ease with me again.

But as the first visitors of the afternoon come in and Bella turns to greet them, I retreat to the office again, the damn window offering its tantalizing view. Fucking Emmett and his great ideas.

I turn my attention to the constant flood of invoices, trying to ignore Bella's laughter tinkling in from outside.

A little while later, Emmett comes in with our late lunch, tossing me a brown bag with my sandwich. We eat in silence for a few minutes.

My gaze drifts out to the tasting room again. Bella has two customers—a middle-aged couple – and she's smiling at something the woman's saying.

Emmett clears his throat, and I turn around. He's regarding me with an amused expression.

"Watcha doin'?" he asks pointedly.

"Paperwork."

"Right," he snorts.

I hold up the documents in question and wave them around. Emmett smiles smugly and takes another bite.

"Fo, we fill on for nexft veekend?" he asks, his mouth full in traditional Emmett style.

We'd been planning to celebrate the opening. The weather had been shitty for the past couple weeks, so we'd put it off. Now we'd pushed it back to Memorial Day weekend. After a little prodding from Emmett and Jasper, I'd agreed to host at my place as long as they found someone else to do the cooking. Might as well use Victoria's insane backyard set up for something.

"Yeah."

"The weather looks good. I checked the ten day. Supposed to be hot."

"Oh yeah?"

"Maybe you wanna tell people to bring their bathing suits?"

Visions of Bella assault me . . . would she wear a two-piece? Bella in a bikini might be more than I can handle.

I sigh. "They can if they want. I'm not gonna tell people to do anything, though. It'll probably be too cold to swim."

"You never know. And you have the hot tub." I haven't opened or tended to the damn thing in five months, so it's probably a legitimate health hazard. If my father sees the algae probably growing in it, he's liable to have a heart attack.

"Yeah, I guess I better have someone clean it then."

"You have time."

"Gee, thanks."

"So, we keeping it small with just employees and family, or are friends invited?"

My brother has a penchant for inviting way too many people to such events - and hell if I want the entire town of Burlington in my backyard.

"Small, Emmett. Small."

"A few friends?" he asks hopefully.

"A few," I relent. "Fine."

"Dude, we used to have some awesome parties back in the day. Let's just have some fun next week, okay? Leave it all to Rose and me. Don't stress."

"All right." I sigh, raking my hands through my hair. I've been telling myself the same thing all day.

"We're supposed to be celebrating. Aren't you happy about all this shit?" he asks, gesturing around.

Bella's laughter comes in again through the opened door, and I can't help myself—I look. Seth's sitting at the bar, passing her half of a shitty-looking sandwich. Probably peanut butter and jelly. I scowl, wondering if his mother made it for him.

"Hey, Ed?"

"Yeah?" I swivel around, and Emmett's looking at me from over the sports section of the paper he's reading.

"Bella's a nice girl."

"So you've said."

"Yeah, I also said some pretty shitty things." How could I forget our first conversation about her when Emmett'd insinuated one of the reasons he hired her was as eye candy for me. Or something more.

"I recall."

"Yeah, well. That was stupid. I like her a lot. Rose, Alice, and Jasper like her."

"And your point?"

"You like her."

"Yeah, of course, I like her."

"You know that's not what I mean."

"I still don't get your point, Emmett. She's our employee, for one."

"Only for the summer. And she's an adult," he counters with a shrug.

"She's in college."

"So?"

"She's too young. And I'm not even fucking divorced yet. Victoria's doing everything she can to screw me over. The last thing I need is another fucking lawsuit."

Emmett laughs. "You're not giving Bella enough credit, Edward. And anyway, all this proves you've thought about it."

"Ridiculous," I reply dismissively.

"All I'm saying is I see the way you look at her. The way you act around her."

I groan into my hands, unable to believe we're having this conversation.

"I'm not trying to say I know how Bella feels because I don't. But I'd be surprised if she didn't like you, too."

"What is this, the sixth grade? Do you wanna go pass her a note for me?" I ask snidely.

"Stop trying to deflect."

"Who killed my brother and replaced him with Dr. Phil?" I mutter aloud, rolling my eyes. Emmett stands up and hits me in the shoulder with his folded paper.

"Yeah. Rose has been watching a lot of those shrink shows," he admits. "I'm not saying you have to do anything about it now. I get the whole Victoria thing. But that doesn't mean you can't ever be happy."

The mention of her name makes me cringe internally; we're meeting again in another two weeks, and I'm not prepared for that shit . . . at all. I just nod.

"All right. I'm gonna go tell the guys about the party. They can bring girls, right?"

"Yeah, whatever."

"Nice. I'll be right back."

Once he's gone I try not to look out the window at Bella, but at this point I have zero self-control.

She's all alone now, leaning over an opened book on the bar. I told her it was okay for her to read to pass the time when they're no customers. From the expression on her face, I can tell it must be depressing.

A few seconds later I'm out the door.

"Good read?" I ask her. She startles a bit at the sound of my voice, looking up before dog-earing her page and closing the book slowly.

"Sorry. I didn't—"

"It's fine. You can keep reading."

"It is a good book. A little sad." She flips it over, giving me a view of the cover. Some classic by Edith Wharton—I've never read it before.

"Then why are you reading it?"

"I don't know. It's a slow day." She shrugs, but a look in her eyes tells me there's more to it.

"Well, I'm about to go check the viscosity of the Raz Wheat. I could use a little help, if you want."

"But the bar . . ." she trails off. I can tell she wants to come but doesn't feel comfortable leaving it unmanned.

"I'll tell Em to keep an eye out. He'll come get you."

"Um. Okay!" she says brightly, stowing the book and joining me on the other side. "You're the boss, after all."

"Yeah. I'm the boss."

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**A/N: So you think Bella's head is spinning or is she taking Edward's mood swings in stride? Do tell!**

**A couple announcements this week:**

**First, I've decided to contribute a long-awaited _Cullen Sutras_ outtake for Fandom Fights the Floods. If you donate to this very worthwhile cause, you'll receive a compilation of all author contributions on March 1****st**** (including mine). Make a difference and enjoy some great reads! For more info, check out the site: http:/fandomsfightthefloods(dot)blogspot(dot)com/p/home(dot)html**

**Second, my O/S "The Long Way Home" is up for a Walk of Fame Award for One Night Stand (Best O/S)! Thanks to whoever nominated me! Voting is open until 1/31 and there are a lot of great stories to choose from: http:/twinklingswfa(dot)blogspot(dot)com/p/voting(dot)html**

**(As always, replace the "dots" with periods)**

**xox**


	8. Beer Pong

**A/N: Thanks to Mac214 for her red pen and advice on Carlisle's bowel obsession (among other things)—I'm truly grateful! DiamondHeart78 and xhellokitty99x pre-read this chapter. Thanks ladies!  
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**"_If you ever reach total enlightenment while drinking beer, I bet it makes beer shoot out your nose._"**  
**-Deep Thoughts with Jack Handy (SNL)**

**Chapter 8: Beer Pong**

"Two kegs?" Emmett asks on the end of the line. He's swinging by the brewery to pick up some beer before the party while I stand in the kitchen trying to remember where the hell the sunscreen is; the morning is already hot, and my pale ass hasn't seen the light of day in months. Emmett might want to consider a career in meteorological science or some shit if the brewery goes under, because he was right about people needing their bathing suits on Memorial Day. I woke up this morning with my balls stuck to my leg. Fucking wonderful.

"One keg."

"You mean two?"

"Why the fuck would we need two?"

"Do you have room in your tub for two?" It just so happens I probably have room for three, or even four, since Victoria installed a huge-ass whirlpool bath last year, but why do we need so much beer? Unless Emmett invited the whole town.

"Shit. You invited the whole town," I say with dawning realization.

"Nah, just about half of it."

"Emmett . . ." I slam the cabinet door shut under the sink. Not there either. Well, my father will bring enough for an army, anyway. He lectured us on sun safety so many times as kids it's amazing either of us dares to go into the sunlight at all. According to him, every time you get a burn you increase your cancer risk by 25 percent. Scared the hell out of me when I was ten before I knew my dad's 'issue.'

"Chill, dude, chill. I'm joking," he says. "But it's better to be safe then sorry, right? We don't wanna run out."

"Fine. Two. But you're not putting them in my bathroom. We'll just ice them outside."

"Sounds good, bro." I hear Rosalie in the background, and Emmett laughs at whatever she says. "We'll be there in a few."

I hang up the phone and sigh, scrubbing my hands over my face. People will be here in an hour, but everything's pretty much all set. I'd had the place cleaned the day before and the hot tub treated—not that anyone will want to go in there if it gets up to 90 today, like they're predicting—but maybe at night if people stick around.

I wonder if Bella will stick around.

The past week has been different, but in a good way. Bella has been staying for an hour or so after we close the tasting room to help out around the brewery. Her interest in learning how to make beer seems genuine, and it's actually kind of fun to show her shit. Her enthusiasm reminds me of how I used to be when I first got into this business. I miss that original excitement sometimes. And so yeah, this whole "relaxing" and "not worrying so much" thing seems to be working, at least at the brewery. Today she'll be here, though, in my house. And fuck if it doesn't make me nervous for some reason. We've never socialized outside of work before. Well, there was that time at the bar—but that doesn't really count since I own that place too.

I own this place, but it's different.

I can't forget Emmett's stupid comments. He almost made sound like it would be okay to date her. Obviously, I know it's not okay . . . but damn him for even bringing it up in the first place, like he's some sort of relationship expert.

I go outside and uncover the grill, noticing it's still full of last year's charcoal. Wonderful.

"Dude! Where the hell are you?" Emmett's voice bellows from inside. "We're here!"

Let the festivities begin.

/S8B\\\

A couple hours later all of the usual suspects have arrived: the guys from work and their girlfriends, a couple of Emmett's friends. One of Alice's colleagues tagging along after her looks too much like Victoria for my liking. I'm surprised Melanie hasn't brought any man meat along with her, but the looks she's shooting me from over the tops of her gigantic sunglasses, combined with the miniscule bikini she's sporting, make me think she envisions an alternative plan. Funny thing is, I'm not even tempted, despite the fact that I can almost . . . no, scratch that . . ._ definitely _see her nipples. The scrap of fabric she's passing off as a top barely covers them.

All I can think about is the fact that Bella and Seth aren't here yet. She hasn't said whether or not she plans to come alone. Not that it's any of my business. At all.

Fuck, though. It bothers me. I'm bothered.

A little while later I go inside to get some plastic cups for the keg and notice my parents are here with an insane amount of food and, yep, enough sunscreen to kill a horse.

"Hey sweetie," my mom says, giving me a hug. I help her with some of her bags, excited to see she made her famous seven-layer dip.

"So glad you guys could make it," I reply, looking over her shoulder at my father. He's hard at work wrestling with something on the kitchen counter. Upon closer examination I determine it to be a pineapple.

"I thought I'd make a fruit salad." My father isn't big on personal contact, so I'm not expecting a hug. "Good for colon health," he says by way of explanation, returning to his task.

"Your father's been having a little trouble with his colon," my mother whisper-yells, going over and rubbing his arm soothingly. "He's on an all-fruit diet."

"All fruit?"

"I've been terribly backed up," Dad says loudly. "I haven't been this constipated for years. Perhaps decades. It's probably Parkinson's." He turns to my mother with a reproving look at her hand. "Esme. Knife safety."

"Of course, dear." She obligingly stops rubbing and steps away.

"Uhhh . . . okay. Well, that's great. People love fruit," I offer, mustering as much enthusiasm as I can for talk of my father's bathroom problems.

"Did you know most Americans don't eat their daily amount of fruit in a week?" comes a familiar voice from behind me. I turn, and my eyes nearly bug out of my head. It's Bella. She's wearing a black bikini top and the smallest red shorts I've ever seen. Cascading down her bare shoulders, her dark hair looks even longer and glossier than usual. I didn't even know that was possible. In a completely emasculating moment, I find myself wondering if she uses some sort of hair product or if her hair is just really _that shiny_.

But then I remember the context of our conversation. Aaaand how Bella now knows the state of my father's colon health. Fantastic.

In the background, I hear him murmur approvingly. "Too true, too true." When I turn around I see he's nodding at Bella with a pleased smile. She grins back.

"Just think of all of the antioxidants people miss out on," Bella says. "And no one takes a daily multivitamin anymore." She shakes her head, emphasizing the travesty.

Dad sighs in exasperated agreement. "Don't even get me started on that. When I think about how some people treat their bodies. It's just appalling."

"I agree. No wonder the U.S. is the most obese nation on earth," Bella says emphatically. Carlisle beams, wiping his hands on the apron he's donned—one of Victoria's—and joining us on the other side of the kitchen island.

"Fruit has a lot of sugar in it," I say to no one in particular. "Can't be good to eat too much." I'm predictably ignored.

"And who is this lovely young lady, Edward?" my mother asks with a smile.

"Mom, Dad, this is Bella Swan. She's our newest addition up at Cullen Creek. Bella, these are my parents."

"It's so nice to meet you, Mrs. Cullen, Dr. Cullen." Bella extends her hand to my father. In an unprecedented gesture, he takes her hand without hesitation, giving her a toothy smile.

"Very nice to meet you," he replies before releasing her.

"Bella," my mother says, taking her hand next. "We've heard so much about you."

What? Not from me. Emmett, you goddamn traitor. I make a mental note to kick his ass later once he's piss-drunk.

"Really?" Bella says, turning to me with a surprised look. I shrug, and my mother smiles without elaborating.

"You seem to know quite a bit about nutrition, Bella," my father continues. "That's good to see in someone your age." He adds a wink to his smile, and Bella blushes.

"Oh, Carlisle, leave the girl alone," my mother says, laughing, "Bella dear, don't mind my husband. He's a born flirt."

Are my parents aliens? I'll be thirty in a little over a week, but right now I feel like I'm in high school. I can't decide what's weirder—the fact that my father is flirting with Bella or the fact that my mother seems to find it amusing. Or the fact that Bella doesn't seem to find the situation strange.

"Well, I'm a vegetarian," Bella says, her smile unfaltering. "I have to be pretty conscious of what I eat to get the proper nutrients."

"I see! Excellent!" Dad says, untying the belt to the apron around his waist. "Fascinating you should say so. I was reading an article the other day that determined a correlation in women between high protein diets and irritable bowel syndrome."

"Really?" Bella asks. No. NO. Don't ask. _Never _ask!

"Indeed." His expression becomes very serious. "Just out of curiosity, have you noticed any irregularities in your bowel movements?"

"Daaaad," I whine. I sound like a fucking five year old but I'm desperate for him to stop.

Bella shocks me by giving him a completely straight-faced reply. "Actually, I'm fine in that department."

"Good to hear, good to hear," my father says thoughtfully as I mentally exile myself from the room. "Perhaps you'll be a good influence here on my son. He's a notorious meat-eater. The boy loves sausage—what can you do? Some people are just born with a taste for it."

If I could kick my parents . . . well, my father . . . out of my house, I would. Humiliation doesn't begin to cover it. I know the way Bella's mind works—hell, the way any other normal person's mind works. She looks at me with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. No way I'm living this down. And it's fucking true anyway; I remember back to the day of Bella's taste test. Yeah, I ate pretty much that whole sausage in front of her.

"Does he now?"

"Yep," Dad says, laughing, "When Edward was a kid we couldn't keep him away from the stuff."

Bella laughs along as I scowl. It completely surprises me when she reaches out and gives my arm a squeeze. She passes her hand lightly up my shoulder before retracting it while continuing to talk to my parents. I glance at them, trying to figure out if they noticed Bella's action, but no one seems concerned. Except me. I look again at Bella, and she doesn't give any indication or acknowledgement—maybe she wasn't even aware she touched me. Maybe—

"Hey, B? You have my trunks?"

A new, unwelcome visitor enters the kitchen—Seth Clearwater, screen door slamming behind him, smiles a huge, goofy smile at Bella.

"Uh . . . yeah, in my bag," Bella says, nudging the backpack at her feet. Seth jogs over and exchanges perfunctory greetings with my parents and me.

"Thanks," he says, grabbing the bag and mussing her hair. "I'm gonna go change."

Fuck. He gets to touch her. What a bastard.

"Sounds good," she replies.

"Come on outside. Jasper's got the grill going."

"I'll be there in a sec." Bella gives Seth a tight smile and turns back to us. I stare at the empty cups on the counter. I definitely need a drink . . . or ten.

Carlisle looks concerned. "Is there anything for you to eat here?" he asks her. "I'm making some fruit salad . . ."

"There're some things outside," I mumble quickly. Yesterday I found myself driving to the Burlington Co-op—a vegetarian nirvana for hippies and new age yoga people. I never go in that place-ever. It literally smells like armpits, though I've been told that's just the cumin in the spice aisle. But yet there I was, walking down the many aisles and glancing at strange vegan entrees. Bulgur. Lentil patties. Rice milk. Finally I settled on some tofu hot dogs and some black bean burgers that looked vaguely edible. That's the shit that's outside.

Bella glances at me and gives a shy, "thanks," but I just brush it off. No way I'm confessing about the Co-op.

My assertion seems to satisfy Carlisle, and he and Bella continue their weird conversation about the shitty dietary habits of the American public while Esme listens on like she actually gives a crap. I grab up the cups I'd originally come for and indicate I'm going outside.

I beeline to the keg and fill my cup to the top, letting the head subside before taking a long gulp. Seth just isn't . . . good enough for her.

Why, Edward? He's a perfectly nice kid.

He's a douche.

He's not.

He is. A freaking douche and a half.

The rest of the party seems to be going well. Jasper has the grill going, and Emmett's playing Frisbee with a few of the other guys on the lawn. Melanie, Rose, Alice, and Siobhan—the Victoria look-alike—lay and chat on some lounge chairs.

"Yo, Ed! You up for Flip Cup later?" Emmett calls over, breathless from a leaping catch. He tosses the disc back to Garrett and comes over to where I stand.

"You still got that folding table?" he asks. I nod. Purchased eleven years ago exclusively for playing ridiculous beer drinking games. Of course then we were drinking shitty pilsners, not the awesome IPA in my cup now.

"Mom and Dad are here."

"Cool. Well, we'll wait 'till they leave, obviously. So, you having fun?" He looks at me quizzically.

"Yeah. It's a blast," I reply with unremitting sarcasm.

"Who pissed in your beer?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Dude, you were fine fifteen minutes ago. What—"

He glances over my shoulder, and I turn to look. Bella and Seth exit the porch, talking animatedly.

"Oh."

"Drop it, Emmett."

"Dude . . ."

"Drop it."

"All right," he says, backing up with his hands splayed in surrender.

I drink a little more and then refill my cup; I'm just about to go join the game of Frisbee when Bella approaches.

"Hi," she says. "You ran off."

"People needed cups."

"Oh, right," she says, glancing down. I hand her a red plastic cup, and she takes the nozzle to fill it. "Your house is beautiful, Edward. And this backyard right on the lake. Wow."

"Thanks," I reply. "But I didn't really have much to do with it. It was all . . ." I stop myself. Too late.

"Victoria," Bella finishes softly.

I nod, glancing away. Victoria is the last thing I want to discuss, and I don't know why I brought her up. The meeting with the lawyers is scheduled for next week. I just want to forget about it, at least for today.

"Yeah."

"So," Bella says, blessedly changing the subject, "Your parents are sweet. Your dad's a hoot."

"He's something."

"Oh, come on, you don't mean they embarrass you?" Bella takes a sip of the beer in her cup. I notice she doesn't grimace at the hops anymore. Interesting.

"Some things you just never outgrow."

"Well, I think they're awesome. Your dad is kind of a looker."

My eyes widen with horror, and Bella laughs.

"Are you serious?" I glance over to where my mother and father sit at the patio table. The man is wearing socks with his sandals.

"Come on, Edward. He's cute. Admit it."

"That's just wrong on so many levels," I reply, trying to keep eye level contact with Bella. My eyes want to move lower. They really, really, want to see her bathing suit again. Seth's girlfriend? Ugh.

"And your mom, she's adorable."

"Well, they seem to like you."

"So, what did you tell them about me?" she asks. Now she's teasing. I expect a sausage comment at any moment.

"What?"

"Inside. Your mom said she'd heard about me. Did you tell them I'm a stellar employee?"

"Uh . . ."

"Uh-oh," she says, raising her eyebrow, "Maybe it was something bad?"

"No. I wasn't sure what Esme was talking about myself. I think maybe Emmett said something . . ."

"Okay. Don't tell me. I'll just have to use my imagination," she replies, clearly not believing me.

The wind picks up a little, making the water choppy and cooling the air. Even though it's hot outside, I'm sure the water temperature is still freezing. I doubt anyone will be swimming today.

Emmett gives me a little wave from over where Rosalie and Alice sit. When Alice sees Bella, she squeals and hops up, running over to us.

"THERE you are," she says with exasperation. "I thought you got lost or something."

"No. I had to get a ride with Seth, and he was running late."

"Fuck. Ringo?" Alice asks.

"He died."

"Again?"

"Afraid so."

"Fuck, girl," Alice says. "You need a new car."

"First I need a raise," Bella replies jokingly. She elbows me in the side, catching me right between the ribs. I stop myself before I squeal like a little girl.

"But seriously, I know he'll be fine," Bella says emphatically. "Ringo will rise again."

Seth comes over to get a beer, and I leave the three of them to talk.

A couple hours later, I'm standing and talking with Jasper when my mother approaches.

"Honey, we're going to leave now. Your father . . ." she turns, looking over her shoulder just in time to catch a glimpse of him hurrying into the house. "He's not feeling very well. Or, I should say, he's feeling . . . better."

I nod and grimace, not wanting to know about the success of his all-fruit diet.

"It was a very nice party, sweetheart."

"Thanks for coming, Mom," I say, giving her a hug.

"That Bella seems like a very nice girl," she says far, far too loudly.

I check to see if Jasper's out of earshot. Nope. He definitely heard her. And now he's definitely smirking at me.

"Right," I reply. Don't any of these people understand she has a boyfriend? And that I'm her boss? And still technically married? Apparently not.

My mother releases me and embraces Jasper, then goes off on her rounds. She's a notorious hugger. Always has been. She approaches Bella and Alice, lounging in the shade. Bella smiles and hugs her back, her eyes widening and darting to the door as Esme whispers something in her ear. Yep, my mother just told Bella that my father is currently shitting his brains out or something to that effect.

Fantastic.

Once she's done with her hugging duty, my mother waves one last time and retreats into my house to find my father and hopefully get him home before the fireworks really begin.

Bella and Alice devolve into a fit of laughter, glancing over at Jasper and me. I salute them with my cup, downing the rest of the contents as Jasper shakes his head.

A few more people leave as afternoon fades into evening, and soon there're only about ten of us left.

"Fliiiiip Cuuuuuup," Emmett howls from the porch. "Dude! Help a brother out?" He pushes against the screen door with the wooden foldout table. I sigh as people murmur in approval. Looks like everyone's staying the night—there's no way I'll let anyone drive after a game like this.

Jasper and I help him to set it up while the girls, Seth, and Garrett look on. It is perhaps just a little pathetic we're playing a game reserved for college students. Of course Bella and Seth are college students. Does that give them some sort of advantage?

Once Emmett has filled a couple of pitchers with beer, he breaks into organizer mode.

Siobhan agrees to sit out since there's an odd number, so eventually I find myself on a team with Seth, Melanie, Rose, and Garrett as we face off against Bella, Emmett, Alice, Jasper, and Kate.

The game is simple and stupid: team members have a cup filled with beer in front of them. The goal? Drink your beer as fast as you can, turn your cup upside down on the edge of the table, and use your fingers to flip it back upright. The first team to finish wins. Simple, stupid, and guaranteed to get you drunk. I'm not worried about myself—I can hold my beer—but Bella already seems a little tipsy.

I find myself face-to-face with her for the first round.

"You're going down, Cullen," she says, bouncing a little from one leg to the other. I can't even pretend I don't notice what that does to her tits. I fucking notice.

"Is that a challenge, goat girl?"

"It sure is, sausage boy."

Just when I thought it was safe.

"You're on," I say cockily. "I used to be Flip Cup champion."

"What an honor." Bella rolls her eyes, and I grin. She's so damn cute.

Someone next to me gives me a nudge; Melanie smiles up at me and places her hand on my arm. She has those really long fake nails—they kind of gross me out. "I'm glad I'm on your team. We're gonna kick some ass."

"Hopefully," I reply. She squeezes my arm again before dropping her hand, letting her nails scratch against my skin. It makes me shiver, and not in a good way. When I look back at Bella she quickly averts her eyes, but I think I catch her roll them again.

Four rounds later, I'm about to eat my words. Bella is good. She's not great at chugging the beer, but she flips the cup quickly and easily and always on the first try. Still, we're tied when we begin the fifth and final round.

Siobhan gives the word and we're off. Garrett and Emmett face off, and Garrett wins handily, passing the torch off to Rose, who finishes drinking just as Emmett finally gets his cup upright. The rest of the round goes off tightly, so that we're neck and neck when it comes down to Bella and me. I down my beer in one gulp, but I can't flip the stupid cup, especially when I glance up and see Bella drinking with her head back. She looks damn sexy, even as a little beer spills over the side of the cup and down her front. Especially then.

Both of our teams cheer us on, and finally – FINALLY - I get the damn cup upright, beating Bella by about two seconds. Victorious yells erupt around me, and Melanie's boobs squish up against my arm as she hugs me fiercely. I smile, reveling for a moment in my win as the rest of my team talks shit to Emmett's.

Finally, when the cacophony dies down, I turn around to see Bella and Seth engaged in conversation. Melanie still clings to my arm.

"So, Edward, I hear you have a hot tub?"

"I do."

"Can we use it?"

"Be my guest," I reply. By this time, I'm definitely feeling drunk. Not completely shit-faced, but drunk. The way Melanie has her tits pressed against me, she certainly is. I think back to my conversation with Bella and almost laugh. Those things do need their own zip code.

"Don't you want to come?" she coos.

"Maybe in a little bit," I reply offhandedly, still focused on Seth and Bella. She laughs, and he puts his arm around her. I don't like it one bit.

"Oh, come on," Melanie says. "I don't want to go alone. Just for a little bit." Bella laughs again, and Seth whispers close to her face. I feel my anger rise and force myself to look away before I see something worse. It's completely dark now and getting cooler. Emmett lights some of Victoria's stupid tikki torches around the patio table and someone suggests cards.

I don't know how it happens, but I find myself being led away from the group towards the hot tub, Melanie's arm threaded through mine.

Once on the porch, I turn the lights on in the tub and wonder what the hell I'm doing. Melanie prattles on about something or other as she slides into the hot water. I stand by the stairs indecisively.

The screen door slams, and I turn around. It's Seth and Bella.

"Oh," Seth says. "I didn't know you were in here."

"Yeah, well, we are," Melanie says from the tub. The tone of her voice indicates her irritation, but Seth, God love him, remains oblivious.

"Do you mind if we join you?" he asks.

"Not at all," I say, sliding into the tub. This should be interesting.

"Um . . ." Bella says, "Maybe we should just play cards."

"No way!" Seth starts up the stairs, and I slide to the other end of the tub to allow him access. He enters the water enthusiastically, splashing water over the sides.

Bella stands awkwardly, looking at her feet. Melanie moves a little closer, grazing my leg with her toe. I ignore her.

"Okay," Bella says finally, sliding her shorts down her legs and tossing them onto a nearby chair. "Sounds like fun."

Holy shit.

There should be a picture of Bella's ass under the dictionary heading for "perfection." It's even better than I imagined—round and firm and soft-looking all that the same time. And now I'm never going to get this image out of my head. Her legs are smooth, white, and shapely, and as she dips them over the side of the tub I almost fucking groan.

It's a good thing I'm underwater.

Seth notices too, but Bella doesn't seem aware of the two idiots gawking at her.

Finally, she submerges herself completely, and I don't know whether to curse God or thank him.

"This is so relaxing," Seth says, moving closer to her. Melanie makes another pass at my leg with her foot. I just stare at Bella, and she just stares at the ceiling, resting her head on the back of the tub.

"Isn't it?" Melanie agrees.

No. Not really.

Seth and Melanie chat about various things, and Melanie nonchalantly moves her foot up my thigh, just barely grazing my cock. Hello! I try to move her foot away without being obvious, but I think Bella notices. She scowls a little, turning her attention to Seth.

What the fuck am I doing? I can't hear what Seth and Bella say since the bubbles in the tub are so loud, but Melanie and I don't speak. She tries the foot on the dick thing one last time before I turn to her with an "it's not happening" look.

After another couple minutes of excruciating awkwardness, I can't take it anymore.

"Excuse me," I mutter, lifting myself out. "I think I'll go get another drink."

Seth smiles and waves, and Bella looks down at the water. Melanie shoots me a dirty look, but hell if I'm sitting in that tub one more second.

I grab a towel and wrap it around my waist, not looking back at the three of them before entering the kitchen. The keg's outside, but I don't feel like seeing anyone, so I grab another beer from the fridge, opening it and taking a swig before going down the hall to take a piss.

Fucking Seth.

And what the hell is wrong with me? Here I have a woman rubbing her foot up my leg and around my junk, and I don't even want her. Instead, I'm staring at this girl I can't have and moping about it like some emo fuckhead. Great, Edward. Just great.

I wash my hands and look at myself in the mirror. My hair stands up crazily around my head, and I definitely have a sunburn on my face and my shoulders. It's gonna hurt in the morning, but I can't bring myself to care. I sip my beer again before I realize I'm fucking hiding in the bathroom. The room feels just a little spinny. I must be drunker than I thought.

Someone knocks on the door.

"Just a sec," I mumble, wiping the rest of the water off my legs. When I open it, Bella stands just outside looking wet and cold, dripping water on the floor.

"Hey," she says, "Sorry. There were no more towels."

"Hang on," I reply, turning back to the bathroom and grabbing one. She takes it gratefully, wrapping it around her body.

"Thanks."

"No problem. It's all yours," I sweeping my empty hand towards the bathroom.

"Edward, wait." I stop and turn around. She looks at me with wide eyes.

"You keep running off," she says softly.

"Yeah, well. I thought you might want some privacy."

"Oh."

"So, you and Seth?" I say, trying to appear noncommittal. I don't think it works.

"Uhh . . . not really."

"Not really?" I take a step closer. I must be drunk because the rational part of my brain doesn't appear operational. "You're not here _together_?" I ask, emphasizing the last word.

"Uhh . . . kinda. I mean. He asked me . . . on a date. And I said yes." Even though I know this already, it still stings.

"I see."

"Yeah. I don't know. I mean, I like him. I'm just not sure I really_ like_ him."

"I see," I say again—I can't seem to say anything else. Bella's breathing louder, and I realize we're standing close . . . very close. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, and I can see the pulse point at her neck beat in time with her heart.

"I thought you didn't date employees," Bella says. "You and Melanie seem quite . . . cozy." I can smell the alcohol on her breath. Somewhere in my brain I know this needs to stop, but I can't seem to back away. She stands against the wall, and I have the overwhelming need to press my body against hers.

"We're not."

"Oh no?" Bella says with a little sigh as she leans forward, her face mere inches from mine.

"No."

"Good."

"Good?"

"I didn't like it," she whispers. And she's so close. So fucking close. I can taste her in the air she exhales, and I want more. "Did it bother you . . . me coming with Seth?" she asks, and God help me I just want to stick my tongue in that warm, luscious mouth.

"Yes, it fucking bothered me," I confess, pressing her back against the wall. She acquiesces with a little grunt, and now my forearms frame her face, the tips of my fingers playing lightly along her parted hair.

Even in my drunken state, I know this isn't right. But I can't seem to stop. I don't know who makes the first move, but suddenly all I can feel and taste is Bella, her lips opening and our tongues sliding wetly together. It feels so fucking good-her hands in my hair-so fucking good. My hands on her sides, wanting to move higher or lower but able to do neither, I'm so distracted by the way she kisses. Her arms circle my waist and palms touch my back, rubbing and feeling amazing. I grunt against her mouth, and my hands finally decide to move lower, feeling just the top swell of her ass. It's enough. It's not enough. I'm completely hard but somehow restrain myself from humping her leg like a fifteen-year old.

My mind is fuzzy as I start to register we're in the hall. That our friends are outside.

Bella moans a little and turns her head. At first I think she wants me to kiss her neck—which is just what I'm about to do—when I realize these are not good moans. These are sick moans.

"Edward—" she says, her face going green. "I'm sorry. I think I drank too much."

Luckily, we're right outside the bathroom. I try to help her inside, but she bats me away with a grimace, shutting the door behind her.

And I stand in the hall wondering what the hell just happened.

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**A/N: Eeeek! What do you think'll happen in the morning? Do tell!  
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	9. The Morning After

**A/N: Mac214 is my beta, but I like to think of her as my ff superego-she stops me from doing stupid things. And she is awesome. **

**DiamondHeart78 and xxhellokittyxx pre-read this chapter. Thanks ladies!**

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"**Fear the man who drinks water and so remembers this morning what the rest of us said last night."****– Ancient Greek proverb**

**Chapter 9: The Morning After**

Someone's trying to drive a nail into my skull. Fuck. It even hurts to lay my head on the pillow. My first cognizant thought: what the hell time is it? A quick glance at my alarm clock says noon. Noon? Really? I can't remember the last time I slept so late, and I was supposed to be at the brewery for inventory two hours ago.

The effort it takes to swing my legs over the side of my bed pulls a grunt from me, but it cuts off in a hurry when I look down.

Naked.

I always sleep in boxers—never naked. But there it is: my dick waving hello. Fucking morning wood.

Holy shit.

Bella . . . up against the wall . . . my tongue was definitely in her mouth. And I definitely liked it. A lot. And now . . . shit . . . did we? I glance around, searching for evidence of further indiscretion, relieved to find none.

Then it all comes back to me in a rush—

Bella getting sick and protesting feebly for me to leave her alone.

Me looking for Alice.

Alice coming for Bella.

Bella mumbling an apology—or maybe I imagined that. Who knows?

Bella and Alice leaving in a taxi.

Me drinking more.

A lot more. Yeah, I don't remember anything after that. I think maybe Emmett and I got in a fight—but my face doesn't feel sore so probably not, but it hurts to even think. God, why do I brew beer? The Prohibitionists might have had something right after all—it is Satan's beverage.

And something else hurts—I can't believe myself. I fucking got drunk and kissed her. All of that restraint during the past month and a half, and then I go and blow it like a jackass.

She probably didn't even know what she was doing. But then there were those things she said . . . she didn't like the idea of Melanie and me together. Granted, neither do I. She doesn't like Seth. That makes me smile, despite the drilling in my head.

Hell, I think I told her I didn't like her dating him. Did I? I can't really remember, but it seems like something an idiot like me would say.

Does_ she_ even remember?

God, Bella's a good kisser. I'd like to kiss her again . . . and not just on the mouth. I wonder what her skin would feel like on my tongue—how much it would take to make her pant and say my name.

Fuck. I'm so royally fucked. And if she does have any recollection, she's probably gone and told Alice and Emmett and Jasper—and then word will get out. And then Victoria . . . she knows everyone in town. And if she . . .

FUCK!

I stand up too quickly, almost tripping on the sheets still wrapped around my legs. Once I disentangle myself and pull my jeans on, along with a couple of swipes of deodorant, I go out to survey the damage.

"Hey, sleepy," Melanie calls from the kitchen. She's wearing a long t-shirt and cooking something that smells like burnt hair. Upon closer inspection I notice the t-shirt is mine.

I'm pretty sure her foot poked my balls last night. Great.

"Uh. Hi, Melanie."

"I thought you'd never wake up. I made some pancakes," she says, gesturing to the pan. So that explains the terrible smell. What kind of pancakes is she making? Cat?

Then horror washes over me. I remember the nakedness. Melanie is kinda naked too. Does that mean . . . but no. There's no way.

But I don't fucking know for sure.

"Yo, bro!" Emmett slaps me on my bare shoulder. "I thought you'd never wake up. Dude, you passed out pretty early too."

"Did I?"

"Yeah, you did. You were pretty funny. Rambling about some kind of brown beer?" His face scrunches in concentration.

"Really?" I don't remember.

Emmett chuckles and shakes his head. "Yeah, something about beautiful brown . . . you were singing . . . talking about goats, too. Dude—it was weird."

"And then what?" I ask with dread.

"Jasper put you to bed at around midnight."

"Jasper," I repeat, glancing over at Melanie. She doesn't respond, so I take that as confirmation nothing happened between us.

"Yeah. He said you just stripped down naked and fell into bed."

"Ha." Relief makes me so light-headed I'm not even embarrassed I flashed Jasper my junk.

"You must feel like shit. How'd you get so drunk? You and Bella both."

I look at him, trying to discern if there's an undertone to his statement, but it seems pretty innocent.

"I don't know," I lie. "How . . . is Bella?"

"She's fine. Alice called this morning. She was sick another couple of times, but she's sleeping it off. I don't think she'll be in later, though."

"That's okay." I feel terrible she got so sick at my stupid party—I shouldn't have let her drink so much, knowing her relatively low tolerance. She's such a small girl.

But hell if she isn't a good Flip Cup player—_and kisser_ . . .

I don't know whether to be relieved or grateful she won't be into work this afternoon—I really need to talk to her and perform whatever damage control might be necessary. But first I have to find out if she even remembers. For all I know I could have taken her by surprise and shoved my tongue down her throat. That's not how I remember it happening, but I'd also mistakenly worried I fucked Melanie after Bella left.

What a great night—breaking the sexual harassment code of conduct with two female employees. At least with Melanie, I'm pretty sure I was the one being harassed.

"Anyway, Jasper and Seth left a couple of hours ago," Emmett reports. "Seth's gonna open up and start inventory with Garrett, but we should probably get up there." Since when is he the responsible one?

"But I'm just making breakfast!" Melanie says, approaching with a batter-covered spatula. I give her a small smile and a pat on the arm—she's not a bad person—just a little misguided.

"Thanks. I'll take mine to go," I tell her. Emmett looks at me incredulously, but I just shrug. I'm not really gonna eat that shit.

"Really?" She beams and turns, hunting for some tinfoil to wrap up a couple mutilated, semi-round hunks while Emmett wanders off to find Rose.

She looks a little sheepish when she plunks the package into my hand.

"Listen, I'm sorry about last night, Edward."

"Don't worry about it. Consider it forgotten."

She heaves a relieved sigh, and I try to ignore the mess in my kitchen.

I have a feeling talking to Bella won't be so easy.

**/S8B\\\**

Inventory at the brewery with a hangover wasn't exactly an enjoyable experience, but with Seth, Emmett, Garrett, and Jasper's help, it went smoothly. We all felt shitty from the night before, which created a certain camaraderie born out of idiocy. Jasper and Emmett had a good time doing drunken Edward impersonations, while I waited for the moment when they would connect my insane ramblings to Bella. Happily, it never came. I thought about her though—I wanted to call to see if she was okay, but I didn't want to mislead her. And anyway, she was probably sleeping . . .

Today, we're back to our regularly scheduled program. Bella will be in to work, and I'll have to face the mess I've made of things.

As I drive, I get an unexpected phone call from my dad.

"Hello, son."

"What's up, Dad?"

"Well, your mother and I wanted to say we had a great time at your party. I especially enjoyed meeting Bella." Yeah, and humiliating me in the process. Just like the time I took Victoria to senior prom, and Dad treated us a twenty-minute lecture on venereal disease—what a way to begin a romantic evening.

"That's great. It was good to see you."

"Sorry I had to run off like that. The good thing is, it's not Parkinson's. At least I don't think so. But now I'm a little concerned about Crohn's—" He rambles on for another minute or two while I try to tune out the gruesome details, holding the phone away from my ear.

"But the other reason I'm calling is to tell you my secretary will be faxing that article over to Bella—the one I was telling her about. She's expecting it."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes. She expressed a great interest in reading it firsthand. I want to make sure you get it to her."

'A _great interest_?' Doubtful. Here, Bella. My father sent you over this article on pooping problems. Oh, and sorry about that kiss. You're not gonna sue me, are you?

I'm sure that'll go over really well.

"Yeah . . . um . . . sure."

"Your mother and I were wondering if Bella might want to come to dinner sometime—"

"Dad," I say quickly, "Sorry . . . I'm losing my connection. Gotta go. Talktoyoulaterbye." I flip my phone shut and toss it on the seat.

Yeah, I pulled the old 'bad service' trick. So what?

When I pull up to the brewery I notice Ringo—er—Bella's pickup—is nowhere to be seen. So either Bella got a ride with someone else, or she's not here yet.

Even though the kiss was a mistake, I really, really don't want her to have called Seth for a ride. Perhaps I'm being unreasonable. _Insane_, _is more like it._

I sit in my parked truck for a minute, steeling my resolve. The plan—if I can call it that— is just to go in there, tell her it can't happen again, and hope she keeps it to herself. With any luck, she'll think so too and we'll just move on, forget about the whole thing.

The only problem: another part of me doesn't think it was a mistake. That kiss was pretty fucking fantastic—and impossible to forget. In fact, it's been playing in my mind again and again and again. My dick isn't the only part of me interested in another go, either, though he's definitely cheering for Team Bella.

I can't get over the way she humored my parents without being condescending—just more proof of her patience and general awesomeness. Yeah, I think I like her.

You _definitely_ like her, idiot.

But that changes nothing. I'm still not at liberty to date or have a physical relationship with her. I just hope I can let her down easy and explain without hurting her feelings. Wishful thinking, much?

_I can be adult about this_, I think as I make my way to the tasting room door. I'm nervous as a teenaged virgin.

Glancing through the window, I see Bella behind the bar polishing glasses, swinging her hips back and forth. Her back is turned toward me, her shiny hair probably smelling fantastic. I remember how it felt under my fingers . . . so soft. I try to clear my head, but her hips, dammit. Then I notice iPod buds in her ears. She's dancing. With one more deep breath, I push open the door. She doesn't hear me come in, but I can hear her.

"M-m-m-my poker face! Can't read my, can't read my, no, you can't read my poker face!"

Her singing voice . . . it's awful. But, combined with her cute little dance moves, I'm captivated. She really starts getting into whatever terrible song she's listening to—and I debate whether to leave and avoid embarrassing her or make my presence known. But suddenly she whirls around, doing a little arm flourish with the glass in her hand. When she sees me, her eyes go wide—she yanks the buds out of her ears, flushing scarlet and slapping her hand to her chest.

"Fuck! You scared the shit out of me, Edward."

"Sorry . . . don't let me interrupt," I reply, unable to wipe the smirk off my face.

"How long were you standing there?" she demands, her free hand on her hip.

"Uh . . . not too long."

Bella groans. "Excuse me while I go die."

"Sorry. I didn't exactly know how to get your attention."

She blushes again, setting the glass down and picking up another. "Yeah. I guess I was kinda into it. Gotta love Lady Gaga," she says sheepishly.

"Who's Lady Gaga?"

"Are you freaking kidding me?"

"I don't watch TV."

Bella rolls her eyes and returns to her task. "Even my grandmother knows who Gaga is."

"Yeah . . . well . . ." Now I'm confused. Things don't seem to be weird at all . . . I almost forget why I came in here in the first place, and I have no idea how to proceed. I haven't been in this position, well, since college. Victoria and I broke up when we were freshmen, and even though I dated my fair share of women before we got back together, it's been ten years been since I've had to have any sort of 'relationship' talk with anyone else.

"Anyway, you're late," Bella says teasingly.

"Am I?" I glance at the wall clock—late by ten minutes. "I guess so."

"Sorry I couldn't make it in yesterday. Man, I was wrecked."

"It's okay. We were all . . . a little hung-over."

"So I heard," she replies, her eyes twinkling.

"Um . . ." I glance around to ensure we're alone. "Bella . . . I want to talk to you . . . about what happened on Saturday. It's just—" I sigh, running my hands through my hair anxiously. She looks at me expectantly for a second while I try to find the right words.

"What happened . . . was . . ."

"Oh, God, I'm so embarrassed, Edward," she says, cutting me off. "I don't even remember anything after Flip Cup. One second your team is winning, the next I'm heaving on my bathroom floor. I don't even remember how I got home. Thank God for Alice," she says with a sigh and a shrug of her shoulders.

I stand staring at her, stunned into silence. Does she really not remember? Really? And what am I supposed to do now? It seems pointless to bring it up if she really doesn't remember.

"Don't worry about it. We've all been there."

"Yeah, but I don't want you to think I'm like that . . . I'm really not that kind of girl." Her mouth holds the trace of an enigmatic smile—is she fucking with me? But why would she do that?

My worrying over the last twenty-four-hours seems to have been for nothing. Strangely, overpowering the slight relief I feel is confusion . . . regret. Irritation. How can she not remember? Am I a shitty kisser? Did she really not mean what she said about Melanie? About Seth? Or was she just really that drunk?

"Of course not," I reply dumbly. She starts wiping down the bar, humming the "Gaga" tune—ignoring me until my arm blocks her way.

"Lift," she commands.

I do, staring at her and trying to figure out what the hell is going on. All I know is that Bella Swan has surprised the hell out of me. I don't know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't this.

Some customers enter the bar, and Bella disposes of her rag in the sink, turning round with a flourish and a wink. "Well, duty calls!"

"Of course."

"See you later," she says. "Hey, you guys ordering lunch?"

"Yeah, probably."

"Could I get hummus on wheat with veggies?"

"Uh . . . sure."

"No sprouts, though. They remind me of vomit."

"Duly noted."

"Thanks, boss," she says, turning and giving her full attention to the customers.

What the fuck? There's some saying about not looking a gift horse in the mouth . . . mouth.

Bella's mouth is hot.

I'm a dumb fuck, and I've gotta get out of here.

Back in the office, I distract myself with work. Emmett and I have decided to go with his lager suggestion, but we've compromised by adding some rye to spice up the blend. In the end, it'll be a nice, toasty, orange-red Oktoberfest for the fall.

There's also the matter of our malt supplier. I'm pretty happy with the stuff we're getting from Canada, but in recent weeks they've had a bit of trouble meeting our demand. We might have to consider other options.

A fax comes through from my father. Urgent. Attn. Bella Swan. "_Inflammatory Bowel Disease and Protein—Connective Linkages, Risks, and Solutions."_ I toss it onto a pile of papers on my desk, wondering if there's _any_ possibility I'm adopted.

I try not to stare out the window at Bella, especially when Emmett comes in. He gives me a look when I tell him about her sandwich order. If he knew anything, he wouldn't keep it secret, though. Discretion has never been one of his strong suits. Oh, that reminds me.

"Hey, Emmett," I say without turning around.

"Yeah?"

"What exactly did you tell Mom and Dad about Bella?"

"Shit," I hear him mumble under his breath. See? Not a good liar.

"So . . ." I ask, my irritation growing.

"Nothing. Well, not much," he backpedals. "I just said she was a nice girl . . . really friendly and sweet."

"But you didn't say anything about me?"

"Uh . . . why? What'd they say?"

That pretty much confirms it. "I'd appreciate you not to tell our parents things about me and the staff," I grumble.

"Dude, all I said was . . ."

He begins to explain, but I stop paying attention. Seth is in the tasting room with Bella. I watch their interaction for signs of intimacy—but aside from Bella's cheerful demeanor, I don't notice anything. I guess Bella vomiting put the kibosh on their date. Alarming, really, how pleased that makes me.

Just then, Bella turns toward the window. I know she can't see actually see inside, but for a moment I have the unnerving feeling she can—something in the way she cocks her head quizzically says she's on to me. I quickly avert my gaze, just to be on the safe side.

"—ucking Manny Wamirez . . . I svear to Gowd—" Emmett's eating and talking. Now he's on to baseball.

One more peek out of the window. Bella's munching on her sandwich contentedly, her head in a book. She doesn't seem bothered at all—there's no way she remembers.

Why doesn't she remember? That kiss was fucking amazing. She seems to like the sandwich. No sprouts. I guess they do kinda taste like vomit. Never really thought of that before.

"—Wose fays to me, 'Emme, you weave one more fock on va coffee tavle—"

No, it's good. See? Things are normal, just like I wanted them to be. Perfect. It's saved me a lot of trouble. A couple of customers come in, and Bella stops eating. Damn them for interrupting her lunch.

"—the rye to barley ratio?" Emmett asks, but I didn't hear the beginning of his question.

"Yeah. Definitely," I reply, swiveling around.

"Hah!" he says triumphantly. "I knew you weren't listening!"

"What?"

"I just asked if we should triple the rye to barley ratio."

"Oh." That would not be a good idea for the Oktoberfest.

"Dude, you were staring at Bella again. It's getting a little creepy, honestly. I'm gonna install a shade in here or something. Maybe a blackout curtain like they used in World War Two during the Blitz."

I look at him skeptically. "Watching the History Channel again?" He grins and nods, going back to his sandwich.

"And anyway, I wasn't staring at Bella, for your information," I protest. "Just thinking about the mediation." I silently congratulate myself for a nice save.

"Oh fhit. Vhat's thif week, ifn't it?"

"Yeah. Friday."

"Dude, you guys got a plan?"

"Yeah, to figure out what the hell Victoria's bluffing about. And hopefully come to terms. If not, we'll set the court date."

"Fuck."

"Exactly," I say, my tone resigned.

Emmett wisely changes the subject. "Well, have you thought about Maine Fest? We're listed, but we have to confirm by Monday."

Every year, we select a couple of beer festivals to go to—it's a great way to promote our beer, meet new distributors and suppliers, and it's fucking fun too. Last year we had a great time up in Maine, camping at night and hanging out at the festival during the day. We agreed to do it again this year, but I forgot about it until now. It might be nice to get away for a weekend—and now that we're expanding, we need to establish a firmer presence in the beer world.

"Yeah. We might as well—you wanna go?"

"Definitely. Rose got off work, and I know Alice and Jasper are in."

"Cool."

"Alice asked Bella to go."

_WHAT? _I try to remain calm.

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah. She's really excited about it." Before I can respond, Bella pops her head in.

"Hey guys, did I get any faxes?"

Emmett shrugs then both of them turn to me expectantly.

"Uh . . . actually, yes," I say, locating the article on my desk and holding it out to her.

"Great," she replies, snatching it up.

"You really want to read that?" I ask her.

"Might as well. I am a science geek, after all."

"Hey, B," Emmett says, "We were just talking about the beer festival. It's on, if you're still interested."

Bella smiles and nods. "Of course! Sounds like fun!"

"Awesome!" They confirm the awesomeness of it all with a high five, making plans and ignoring me.

Camping for a weekend with Bella . . .

Sounds like trouble.

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**A/N: Hmm... That Bella sure is a mystery to Edward. What do _you_ think?**

**Thanks for reading!**


	10. Skunked

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight. Any other references to movies, books, or copyrighted material are the property of their creators. I just write Beerward.**

**Mac214 beta'd this shiz, and made me giggle-snort with her suggestions. I think I love her.**

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**"_Give me a woman who loves beer and I will conquer the world._"**  
**-Kaiser Welhelm (scary!) **

**Chapter 10: Skunked**

The law offices of Aro Stein are deceptively inviting. An old building covered with Ivy just on the outskirts of Montpelier, it looks almost like a library or someplace equally innocuous. But as I approach on Friday afternoon, I can almost sense the fucking rot inside—Stein and his partners use underhanded tactics to win for their clients, something Jenks warned me but the last meeting proved. And they do it so well. I still can't forget the placid, confident look on Aro's face when he announced Victoria's absurd demands.

Today's the final meeting before this shit goes to court—if it goes to court—and I want to get it over with and get back up to Burlington as quickly as possible. Victoria's red Honda mocks me from its preferential client spot right near the door to the place. What I want to know is how the hell she's affording Aro's retainer fees.

As I open the heavy wooden door and let myself into the entryway, Heidi, Aro's leggy brunette secretary, greets me with disinterest.

"Mr. Cullen," she says, barely dragging her eyes away from her computer. "Mr. Stein is expecting you." She dismisses me with a curt gesture towards Aro's office door. I'd like to give her the finger, but I don't think that'll help my case.

Familiar voices sound through the partially opened door, and I knock twice before receiving the command to, "Come in."

The office itself is richly—some might say ostentatiously—furnished. Aside from the leather sofa and armchairs, an antique coffee table sits on top of what is probably a pretty expensive rug.

"Ah, Mr. Cullen," Aro says, rising from his desk as I enter. He's dressed in an expensive-looking, navy blue suit. I'm shocked, as always, by his strangely youthful face—the dude must be over fifty, but he has that weird Dick Clark vibe about him. Maybe he stays young by sucking the life out of his victims. Victims like me.

Various diplomas hang resolutely on the wall behind his chair. I wonder if he got his degree from an actual accredited university.

Victoria remains seated next to him, her eyes darting to mine as I enter and flicking up and down, sizing me up. She's probably surprised I'm wearing a suit and tie. I have, on occasion, been told I clean up nice. I even shaved for this fuckery.

She looks tired this time—older. Once she was the most beautiful person in the world to me. I can't believe how much we've changed.

"Edward," she says blandly.

"Victoria," I reply, trying to keep the derision out of my voice.

Jenks clears his throat from behind me, standing as well.

It's good to see him—the only one who's totally on my side. I clasp his hand in a strong shake before taking a seat next to him on the stiff, leather sofa.

"Now that we're all here, we can get started," says a fourth person. This must be the mediator, Sam Uley. He looks nice enough—a youngish guy, probably around forty. Jenks recommended him highly, and so I'd given him the go ahead to engage him as our last shot at a non-adversarial divorce. I'm still surprised Victoria agreed, but I'm willing to give it a chance. Of course, during our discussion the night before, neither Jenks nor I had been overly optimistic—but today the goal is to at least figure out what Victoria and Aro have up their proverbial sleeves.

"Mr. Cullen, Mrs. Cullen. My job as a neutral party," Sam begins, "is to help couples negotiate settlements. Your lawyers are present today for advice, but please, I'd like to keep this a conversation between the two of you as much as possible. If, at any time, you'd like to confer with your lawyer, you're free to do so."

"Okay," I agree.

Victoria nods, but she already looks bored with the proceedings. Aro leans over to her from behind his huge desk and whispers something in her ear. She straightens up in her seat immediately. Why the hell does he need such a gigantic desk? Napoleon complex much?

Sam clears his throat and leans forward, bringing my attention back to the undeniably shitty task at hand.

"Let's start with you, Edward. It says here you have fifty percent ownership stake in The Cullen Creek Brewery, as well as a seventy five percent stake in a pub in Burlington, similarly named. Is that correct?"

"Yes," I confirm.

"And as far as other joint assets—as a couple, you own a home on Lake Champlain, two automobiles, one checking, and one savings account?" Sam addresses the question to both of us, but Victoria doesn't answer. She swings her foot petulantly.

"Yep," I reply, though technically all that shit is mine. Or at least paid for with money I earned.

"Mrs. Cullen," he says, swiveling towards Victoria. "You're currently unemployed - is that correct?"

"Yes, that's correct," she answers snippily.

"And you're asking here for fifty percent of Mr. Cullen's gross income for a five-year maintenance period, as well as full ownership of the house."

"That is correct," she replies.

"Mr. Cullen, how do you view these requests?" he asks.

"I feel these requests are unreasonable," I say with measured calm. What I want to say is, "Take your requests and shove them up your ass." Hopefully, I communicate as much with my gaze instead.

Victoria's eyes shoot daggers at me while Aro smiles serenely, leaning back on his chair.

"What do you propose for the settlement?" Uley asks me.

"Twenty percent for two years or until Victoria finds gainful employment. We sell the house, and she can have half of the proceeds. I think that's fair."

"I want the house," she demands.

"We still have a mortgage on the place, you forget. Or did you want me to pay that, too?"

"I'll handle it."

"No deal, Victoria. The house, we sell."

Sam interrupts us gently. "Please, could each of you say a little about your positions on the housing issue. Why do you feel it best to sell, Mr. Cullen?"

"For one, fresh start. The place is too big for one person anyway. And the mortgage is sizeable, though it's about half-paid off by now. It makes more sense to sell."

"And Mrs. Cullen?"

"I put my heart and soul into that place. I don't want to sell," she whispers, her eyes wide as saucers.

I run my hands through my hair in frustration, leaning forward on my knees. Surely she sees how unreasonable she's being? "It doesn't make sense, Vic—"

"I gave you the best years of my life!" she says suddenly, her voice rising. "I went to college. I could have had a career!"

"You could have, sure. You didn't want to work," I point out. Victoria studied Econ in college, but when we graduated she insisted she wanted to do something more creative. But she never did—nor did she become an accountant, as she'd planned. Of course she helped out at the brewery once in a while, but she was never really invested in it. She did, however, perfect her ability to spend my money. Guess the degree paid off after all, I think with a twinge. It still hurts . . . to think she might never have loved me.

"You didn't want me to," she whispers with a pout, still regarding me with those wide, hurt eyes. Oh, so I see how it's going to be. I'm the controlling asshole, keeping her from living her dreams.

"What? Are you out of your mind?" I ask her in disbelief.

"Oh, so I'm crazy now! That's just how it always was, Mr. Uley," she says emphatically. "Him saying things like that to me. The suffering I had to put up with! Money can't ever make up for what I've been through!" With her greatest dramatic embellishment yet, tears spring to her eyes. Victoria needs a job? Well, maybe she should be a fucking actress.

"There, there," Aro says consolingly, offering her a tissue. Even Sam Uley looks convinced she's really upset. Aro flashes me a well-timed look of deep disapproval while the waterworks continue.

Scratch Victoria becoming an actress. The two of them should team up and take their show on the road. Fucking priceless.

"Victoria," I say, my voice a warning. I don't know what she's plotting, but it obviously involves emotionally manipulating her audience. "Don't."

"Are you_ threatening_ me?" she asks with wide eyes, blotting the tears on her face.

"No. I'm not threatening you, goddamn it. I—"

"I can't believe you would treat me like this, Edward. I was busy making a home for you! And you were always working! Always." she says, her voice catching a residual sob.

"Don't try to turn this around on me because it's not gonna work. Not this time. We were having problems. You left. I would have tried to work through it, but am I glad I didn't."

"I only left . . . because I couldn't take it anymore. I . . . l-l-loved you, Edward. You were just so . . . cruel to me!"

Oh Jesus. What an Oscar winning performance!

Sam clears his throat, shifting and leaning forward in his seat.

"Both of you have strong feelings about what you think you're entitled. That's understandable. But in order to come up with a compromise, I'm going to ask each of you to tell me what it would take to reach a settlement with the other."

Jenks nudges my arm, and I look down at a note he's jotted on a legal pad.

_Conference._

"I'd like to take a moment to speak to my lawyer, Mr. Uley, if that's all right with you."

"Of course."

Jenks and I rise to leave, as does the mediator. Stein and Victoria remain seated, whispering furtively to each other.

Outside in the hall, I pull Jenks aside and out of Heidi's earshot. Uley goes down to the waiting area to give us time to speak alone.

"What the fuck, Jason? This is not working. I just can't—"

"Edward, relax. She's bluffing."

"She's trying to make me sound like some sort of abusive husband in there."

"I know, I know. Calm down. It just shows they have nothing—the only thing they have is Victoria playing the pity card. It won't work with Sam, and it won't work with the judge."

"How do you know?"

"Edward, please. I'm not a divorce lawyer by specialty, but I've dealt with these kinds of situations before. You have plenty of character witnesses to bring forward in your favor, if necessary. But I don't think it will be."

Not entirely convinced, I groan in frustration. Victoria's a fucking professional manipulator. If anyone could succeed in getting the judge on her side, it's her.

"Now, I'll ask you," he says. "Would you like to try a counter-offer?"

"No . . . I don't fucking . . ."

"I think it's in your best interest to bargain . . . just a little. When the judge decides a settlement, he considers standard of living. The goal is to ensure it doesn't decrease after the divorce for the . . . less financially endowed . . . spouse. Are you willing to give her the house?"

"No."

"A slight increase in maintenance payments?"

"Hell no."

"Edward . . ."

"Why should I be the one to give in?"

"You shouldn't. But making a small concession might help this mediation move forward."

I want to laugh—Victoria's not in the mood to bargain—that much is obvious. Still, I might as well try this one last-ditch effort. "Fine, you can raise the alimony to twenty percent for three years. And hell, she can have whatever's in the checking account. But that's it. We sell the house."

"That seems fair," he says, nodding with a little frown.

"Yeah? We'll see what she thinks."

Back inside fifteen minutes later, things have gone exactly like I expected. Uley is great, but I don't envy his job. Even though he's supposed to be impartial, I can tell he thinks my offer is more than fair. But Victoria keeps deflecting with more tales of her horrible life with me. I guess she figures even though her sum is unreasonable, the judge may decide on a half-way point between both our requests, especially if she keeps playing up this angle of the sad, neglected, stifled wife.

So fuck, I guess that means we're going to court. Aro smiles placidly as Jenks and I stand to go. What I wouldn't give to wipe it off his face with my fist.

As we leave, Jenks tells me he'll get us on the docket as soon as possible, probably early next month. He promises now that we're legally separated, it shouldn't take longer than five, six weeks at most. We'll have to work on our strategy, too, if we're going to discredit Victoria's bullshit lies in front of the judge.

I just want this over and done with as soon as possible. Again, Jenks assures me there's no way Victoria'll be successful in her suit—such a settlement is unheard of—but still I walk outside into the warm June sunshine feeling like shit.

"Edward?"

Victoria calls after me just as I open the door to my pickup, and I turn to see her walking through the parking lot with small, awkward steps, her movement constricted by the tight skirt she's wearing. Good. I ignore her, hopping into the cab and slamming the door behind me. I'm out of there in a flash, and I don't look back.

The drive back from Montpelier takes about two hours, giving me plenty of time to think. Memories of that shitshow of a mediation make my foot heavy, and soon the speedometer has climbed to well over the legal limit without my noticing.

Someone else does, though.

_Fucking hell_, I curse when I notice the flashing lights in my rearview, easing up on the gas to pull over.

The cop does laugh a little at my answer when he asks why I was speeding.

"To get away from my ex-wife."

Still, I find myself the proud owner of a two-hundred dollar speeding violation.

Perfect.

It's after six once I'm back in town. I don't feel like going home, so I drive straight to the apartment Emmett shares with Rosalie, about a block and half from the pub.

"Dude," he says when he opens the door, giving me an once-over. "It didn't go well?"

"Fuck no, it didn't," I grumble, moving past him straight to the fridge to grab a beer. Emmett takes one too and follows me into the living room, where he's currently watching the Sox get their asses handed to them. I feel their pain.

Emmett watches me cautiously, taking a slow sip of his beer.

"So, do you wanna talk about it?"

Actually, I do. For about a half-hour, I spew forth all of the venom I'd been forced to hold inside during the mediation. Emmett listens with a horrified look on his face, especially when I get to the part where I "kept her from living her dream."

"Why the hell would you have cared if she had a job?" he asks, staring straight ahead at the TV.

"Uh, exactly."

"It's not like you had kids or anything."

"Thank God," I say with a sigh. I really fucking dodged the bullet on that one. Not that I never want kids, but putting kids through a divorce isn't exactly high on my list of priorities.

"Well, from the sounds of it, it's nothing but her word against yours. I'm sure the judge'll be able to tell she's full of it. There's no way she's getting all that money."

"I sure as hell hope not."

We watch the game for a few more minutes in silence, both of us mulling over our thoughts. I appreciate how Emmett's not pushing me, even though he probably has more to say. Glancing around, I notice for the first time we're alone.

"Where's Rose?" I ask.

"Out with Bella and Alice."

"Ahh."

"Yeah. They were going shopping or some shit. Get stuff for camping next weekend."

"We already have stuff."

"Yeah, but you know girls. They want to get some camping mats so they don't have to sleep on the ground."

"You should have told me. I have a couple of those things kicking around. The girls could've used them."

"Well, I'll use one," Emmett says.

"I'll try to find them," I reply offhandedly, my thoughts drifting to Bella.

Ever since Monday, things around the brewery have been relaxed. We've fallen back into the same easy routine. Most days, Bella stays after her shift, helping Emmett and me test different malt profiles and combinations for our new fall seasonal. She says she needs the extra money, and I don't doubt that . . . but we've been having . . . fun. She's just as sweet and funny and easy-going as always, and while I've played it cool, inside I'm as tense as my dad when he runs out of hand sanitizer.

I'm more convinced than ever that she doesn't remember the kiss . . . but sometimes I catch her looking at me in a way that makes me question myself all over again. I still don't understand why she'd pretend not to remember if she does—I've never seen a girl act like that before. _Same reason you are, asshole_. Because she regrets it.

But I don't like the idea of her regretting it.

And I regret that I regret it. If that makes any sense.

"Edward?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you please cut the crap and tell me what's up with you and Bella?"

I sigh.

"Don't give me any of that 'I-don't-know-what-you're-talking-about' BS either, 'cause I know something's up. She's been staying late every day this week. What gives?"

Just then Pedroia scores a double. Emmett leaps up with a holler and punches the air victoriously, taking another sip of his beer before going to the kitchen to get another. I sit, hoping he forgot his question.

He comes back and flops on the sofa, flipping open the bottle with his pocket opener.

"So?" he asks me with raised eyebrows.

"So . . . ?"

"Bella. What's going on? The two of you making googly eyes at each other at work is making me sick. "

I do NOT make googly eyes. What the fuck?

"Nothing, really. Um . . . I might have kissed her."

Emmett's eyes grow huge in shock before a smile erupts on his face. "Dude! What the hell! When?"

Now I've really gone and done it.

"At the party last week. We were drunk . . . she was REALLY drunk. She doesn't remember." I tell him about Seth and Bella, about Melanie and her attempts to get in my pants. I don't linger on details, but I tell him about the kiss—and then, of course, how Bella got sick.

"So, you've asked her about it?"

"Not in so many words."

"Well, how do you know she doesn't remember?"

"Just the way she's been acting . . . not weird at all."

"Why should she be acting weird?"

"Because it was a mistake, Em. I'm her fucking boss. And she's practically a minor."

"You're an idiot. She's almost 23."

"Yeah, so? I'm almost 30. That's a big difference."

"Not too big. Dad's seven years older than Mom."

Shit, I forgot about that.

"So, was it good?"

"Was what?"

"Don't be a dumbass."

I remember it, but I don't have to remember hard. It's been kicking around in the back of my head all week.

"Yeah, it was good," I admit reluctantly.

"Okay. So, the kiss was good. She's a cute girl. She clearly likes your stupid ass because there's no other reason she'd hang around the brewery after her shift. She's smart and funny. She's got an awesome ass . . ." He makes a little motion with his hands in the air, and I smack him.

"Don't talk about her ass."

He grins and returns to his list. "You stare at her all the time. You're always going in there when she's working. Sure, she's a little younger and she's a summer employee, but so what? If both of you consent, there's nothing wrong with it. I'm a co-owner, and I give you the go-ahead. You won't have to supervise her anymore if that's what's freaking you out. So, what's the problem?"

"Uh . . . my divorce?" I ask with raised eyebrows.

"Shit. I forgot about that. But you guys are separated now. You can date other people."

"Yeah, but Victoria's desperate. That's what Jenks thinks. She's looking for dirt on me. It's better I . . . don't."

"Dude . . ." Emmett's still staring at the TV, and I don't know if he's talking to the Red Sox or me.

"So. You said Melanie was coming on to you?"

"Yeah," I shrug.

"But that didn't seem to bother you too much."

I think back to that night. No, it didn't really bother me. I knew nothing would happen between us, and I tell him so.

"Is that the only reason?"

"What the fuck? Are you implying I want Melanie?"

"No, no. You misunderstood me. Shut up, I'm thinking here."

"Don't pull a muscle."

Finally, he turns to me with a completely serious expression. He's about to get Dr. Phil on my ass.

"Okay. So I see real obstacles . . . or at least you do. The divorce, the age thing, the boss-employee thing."

"Yeah, exactly."

"But I don't think that's it."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"It's you, Edward. You like Bella—you could tell her, make her understand your situation. She's a smart girl. She'd get that. The divorce will be finalized in, what, like five weeks? Not such a long time. If she likes you, which I think she does, she'd wait."

"But Em . . ."

"Exactly. See? You're looking for excuses." Emmett's eyebrows draw together, and I can see he's trying hard to be sincere. It makes him seem like a pussy, though, and I wonder for a second if Rosalie keeps his dick in a jar by the bed.

Finally, his face relaxes like he's had a fucking ah-ha moment.

"I think the real reason is you're scared."

I'm not fucking scared. I have real reasons—viable reasons. Now I'm getting pissed off. "That's ridiculous. I—" Emmett cuts me off.

"Victoria's put you through the ringer the past couple of years. You loved her, and it didn't work out."

"Yeah?"

"So don't you see? You LIKE Bella. You don't LIKE Melanie. She's you're employee too, but you're not worried about that because you don't like her. You don't need to make up excuses. With Bella, you do." He smirks with satisfaction, like he's just won the lottery or some shit. Smug motherfucker.

"I'm not _making up_ excuses."

"Oh, please. That's all you do. You're so good at it you've even convinced yourself."

Papelbon strikes out, and Emmett groans, throwing his bottlecap at the TV. I'm still reeling over Emmett's little speech. Is it possible . . . could I be . . . ?

I need another beer, I decide, so I head out to the kitchen to get one.

Emmett follows.

"So, do I have a point, or don't I?"

"I . . . uh . . ." I say, looking blankly at the contents of his fridge. Besides beer, there's whipped cream, chocolate sauce, some sort of strawberry-flavored crap. I don't even want to know.

"Hey, bro. If that _is_ your reason, it's a more understandable than the other dumb crap you're coming up with. I don't really blame you.

"But I see you like her. It's driving you crazy she went out with Seth. I'm just saying, maybe you should deal with the real reason, rather than dwelling on all that other shit. And hey, maybe she'll still understand." He shrugs and grabs me a beer, popping it open and kicking the fridge door shut with his foot.

Emmett's given me a lot to process . . . I never thought I'd say that. I return to the couch and the game with my beer, feeling completely confused. Try as I will to deny it, I can't. He's fucking right.

A couple minutes later, there's jostling in the hall. Female voices and laughter trickle in, and I immediately detect Bella's.

Emmett raises his eyebrow again, giving me a sideways glance. And when the girls come into the living room, bags in hand, I can't take my eyes of Bella.

She's wearing a dress.

I've never seen her in a dress before.

It's the same, unusual color as this truck I always see down at the pub, and it looks so soft, the way it clings to her. When she sees us sitting on the couch, her smile gets bigger, brighter.

"Hey ladies," Emmett says, leaning back.

"Hey babe." Rose laughs and kisses him on the top of the head. Alice is still struggling with something in the hall.

"A little help here, guys?" she calls. Emmett hops up off the couch, punching me in the shoulder before he and Rose go off to assist her.

"Hey!" Bella says, flopping down on the couch next to me, slapping my knee. What is with people hitting me today? Her dress rides up her thighs a bit, and I nearly choke on my beer. "What's going on, sausage?"

"Just watching the game," I mutter. She doesn't seem to notice her dress because she makes no move to fix it.

"I didn't know you were a Sox fan," she says.

"Are you?"

"Hell no! I'm Mariners, all the way." Ah, West Coast girl. I forgot. "But yeah, I love baseball. My dad loves it, so I kinda grew up watching. My mom hated it."

"Did she?"

"Yeah, probably one of the reasons she left," she says offhandedly, but the bitterness is there.

I realize this is the first time Bella's mentioned specific details of her family life. It explains her hesitance in talking about her mom.

"I'm sorry, Bella."

She turns to me with a sad smile.

"It's okay, really. I've accepted it."

"How old were you?"

"Eight." She looks so sweet and vulnerable, a wistful look on her face.

"So young," I murmur softly. How could a mother leave her daughter like that? And to leave Bella . . .

"Yeah, well. She had better things to do. She's an artist, you see. And a photographer. She . . . wanted to travel."

"Ahh." Before I can ask her any more questions, the rest of the gang reenters the room. Alice's eyes narrow perceptibly when she spies me on the couch next to Bella.

"Cullen," she says.

"Brandon," I reply.

"B, we gotta go," Rose chimes in, breaking the relatively awkward silence that ensues. "You ready?"

"Yeah. Dinner calls," Alice adds.

"Bye, Edward," Bella says softly, shifting on the couch. "I hope things went . . . okay today."

I nod my head slightly, and she smiles, using my leg to push up from her seated position. My hand automatically reaches out to help her and rests just for a second on her hip. The material of the dress_ is_ soft but I imagine Bella is softer.

Holy shit. I'm pretty sure I detect the faint outline of a thong under her dress. I feel the top of it with my hand, too.

This woman is driving me crazy.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, a bit of a transition chapter. Camping up next. Oh, and Victoria. What do we think of her? Reviews are better than speeding tickets.**


	11. Fermentation

**A/N: Thanks to Mac214 for her red pen and thoughts on this story! I'm beyond grateful.**

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**"_He was a wise man who invented beer._"**  
**-Plato**

**Chapter 11: Fermentation**

The drive from Burlington to Bangor takes for-fucking-ever . . . over five hours, so all of us meet up at the brewery early on Friday morning to begin the caravan. Em, Jasper, and I pack my flatbed with kegs on ice while Rose and Alice fit the rest of our stuff into the back of Emmett's SUV. At quarter 'til eight, Bella's the last and loudest to arrive—I hear a newly reincarnated Ringo rumbling up the drive from a mile away.

She clambers out of the truck and gives a wave before pulling her gear out and slamming the door shut with a "thunk."

"Hey, B," Emmett calls. "You're with Edward." He grins over at me. "Alice and Jasper will ride with Rose and me."

He couldn't be more obvious if he tried. Luckily, he hasn't pulled any more scarily observant psychoanalysis on me since last weekend. That doesn't mean I've forgotten about what he said, though. It's been on my mind all week.

"Sounds good," she says, making her way over to greet her friends. Alice throws her arms around Bella like they haven't seen each other in years. They both make little squealing sounds. Girls are weird.

"You wanna lead?" Emmett asks, slinging the final bag into his truck.

"You better," I reply. "You'll never be able to keep up with me." It's a certifiable fact that Emmett drives like a ninety-year-old grandmother. And I don't need another speeding ticket this week.

"All right, ladies, let's lock and load," Emmett shouts. While the rest of our group clambers into his car, Bella approaches me with a smile.

"Morning," she says. "I guess I'm with you."

"Morning, goat girl."

"Where do you want me to put this?" she asks, swinging her backpack off of her shoulder.

"I got it," I reply, taking it from her and stuffing it behind the passenger's seat. It's surprisingly light—we're only going for two days, but Victoria would've packed at least three times as much.

Bella rounds the truck and hops into the cab, immediately kicking off her sandals and settling into her seat. And we're off.

The drive to Maine this time of year is beautiful, and I'm looking forward to it. Apparently, so is Bella.

"I've never been to Maine before. Ringo would never make it that far," she says forlornly.

"Yeah, I wouldn't recommend it."

"So, do you have a name for your truck? I like to know who I'm riding in."

"No name."

"Really? Oh, Edward. That's a travesty. I'll have to think of one." She furrows her brow in concentration, gazing out the window as the trees pass. A couple minutes later, she shrugs.

"No luck?" I chuckle.

"You can't force it. It has to come to you."

"Like an epiphany."

"Exactly. And at this point, I don't know your . . . truck well enough." She grins wickedly at me, and I'm pretty sure we're not talking about my truck anymore.

I try to keep my eyes on the road. Bella has her bare feet propped up on the dashboard, her long legs moving gently from side to side to the beat of the music. It doesn't even occur to me to mind her feet all over my truck.

"So . . . you grew up in Vermont?" Bella asks.

"Yeah. My parents moved from Chicago when I was a baby. They wanted to get away from the big city. My dad is much happier here—less stuff to worry about."

"He's always been like that?"

"Pretty much," I say, shaking my head. "It doesn't really bother me . . . usually. Unless he starts, I don't know, faxing over copies of articles about colitis."

"Irritable Bowel Syndrome," Bella corrects with a laugh.

"Please tell me you didn't read that."

"Not the whole thing."

"That was really . . . nice of you. To humor him like that."

"It was nothing. I like your parents."

I give her a sideways glance, and she raises her eyebrows. "Honestly."

The station we're listening to starts to get static-y, so Bella fiddles around with the controls until she finds something she likes. I tailgate Emmett for a second just for fun, and he give me the finger out of the window.

"Edward, everyone's parents are weird. Believe me."

I stay silent, waiting for her to go on.

"Take my dad, for instance. I'm 22. But I couldn't tell him there would be men on this camping trip. He would've freaked out."

"That sounds pretty normal to me."

"Yeah, but is it normal to do a full background check on anyone your daughter dates? I mean, he even did one on Seth, and I've only gone out with him once."

That does sound pretty frightening. I wonder what he'd find out if he did one on me. Married at 23 and divorced at 30? Hardly commendable.

"How does he feel about your roommates?"

"Oh, Mike, Tyler, and Ben? Fine. He knows them all . . . I think he thinks of them as my bodyguards or something."

"But I love my dad," she says softly. "He means well. He's just a little . . . misguided at times. He thinks he has a good reason to be overprotective. About four years ago, he was shot on duty. I was just about to leave for college. I deferred a year to take care of him."

"God, Bella, I'm sorry."

"It's okay. It was just crazy, you know? I mean, our town is teeny." She wraps her arms around her legs, looking straight ahead. "And even though he's the chief of police, the worst we get is a cat up a tree. Sometimes a domestic disturbance."

"So what happened?"

"Gas station was held up by an out-of-towner. My dad reported to the scene, and the asshole shot him. All for two hundred bucks."

"Jesus."

"Yeah. And it was scary. I thought I might lose him. He's all I've got."

"You're not in touch with your mother?"

"She's remarried. Lives in Arizona with her husband. I guess the light is better there or something. We don't talk often."

"Well, I can understand your dad wanting to protect you."

"Yeah," she sighs. "I know. But let's just say it can get a bit awkward when I'm getting to know a guy."

I really don't want Bella getting to know any guys. Maybe I should team up with Bella's father.

"What's his name?"

"Charlie," she replies softly.

"So, are you . . . dating anyone?"

Bella turns to me with a somewhat confused expression on her face. She blushes, looking away. Shit.

"Not really," she says quietly, looking back out the window.

"So you and Seth aren't going out anymore?"

"I don't think so. But, hmmm . . . I don't know. He's such a nice guy. Maybe I should give it another chance."

Her tone is so nonchalant, I can't tell if she's serious or baiting me. Either way, it pisses me off. And the way her shorts are riding up her legs should be illegal. It's a fucking driving hazard. My grip tightens on the wheel, and I'm pretty sure my teeth grind audibly.

But like the chicken shit I am, I stay silent.

/S8B\\\\

Maine Fest takes place just north of the city. By the time we arrive at the grounds, it's already after three. Brewers and people from all over the Northeast come for the Saturday event, which starts bright and early at nine. But most people come on Friday and stay the whole weekend, making it a great time to network with other craftspeople. Like wine, beer-brewing goes through trends, and it's helpful to know what those trends are, whether or not one decides to follow them.

Right now, people seem to be making extremely hoppy, fruity IPAs with new world hops. Our Three Frog was a big hit last year, and this year, with the secondary hops addition, it should get some attention.

After we check in with the organizers, we drive over to the campsite to unload and set up. Other brewers and their families have already begun making camp. I recognize some of the guys from a nearby brewery in Middletown, and I give them a wave as we slowly make our way over down the dirt road that winds through the grounds. It's not exactly the most private accommodations, but it'll do.

"I haven't been camping in forever," Bella comments. "This should be fun."

"That's easy for you to say," I joke. "You don't have to share a tent with Emmett." The girls will be in one tent and the guys in the other, since that seems to be the least awkward sleeping arrangement.

"Is he a snorer?"

I nod. "And a farter."

"That sucks. But hey, at least it'll be warm."

I shake my head and chuckle at her, glad the atmosphere is light again.

"You are something else."

All of us set to work immediately, wanting to get shit in order as quickly as possible. The last thing I do is check on the kegs and make sure they're still cold. A couple of them need more ice, so Alice and Jasper take a trip to town.

Bella and Rose disappear into the girls' tent to set up their stuff, giving Em and I the opportunity to do the rounds. Peter and Alec, the guys from Stone's Throw down in Rutland, are just across from us. I've known them for years—we started brewing at around the same time and use a few of the same distributors. They make some pretty good beer, too. We stop and talk with them for a while, and they give us a sample of one of their new beers, a Belgian-style dubble. It's excellent.

From where we stand, I can see our site clearly. My eyes drift over when Bella emerges from the tent, and Peter's gaze follows mine.

"Hey, who's that?" he asks with interest. Emmett and Alec are talking Sox.

"Just a new employee. She's working the tasting room," I say dismissively.

"She single?"

Fuck no. Of course she is. Fuck.

"No," I reply. It's a blatant lie, and maybe it'll come back to bite me in the ass, but I don't care.

"Bummer."

Emmett catches the tail end of our conversation and gives me a look, which I promptly ignore.

We say our goodbyes and stop in at a couple other campsites. We're on our way back when Alice and Jasper pull up.

"Bangor is awesome, B," Alice says. "And I'm pretty sure I saw Stephen King at the Quickie Mart."

"It wasn't Stephen King," Jasper assures us.

"It was. He had the glasses and everything."

_It wasn't_, he mouths silently behind her. I laugh, and Alice glares at me. "What do you know about it, Cullen?"

"I just don't remember ever hearing about Stephen King going to Quickie Marts."

"Hmmph," Alice scoffs with narrowed eyes. "You don't remember much, do you?"

There's a little "meep" from Bella behind me, but when I turn around her face is impassive. No one else seems to notice anything. Still, for the rest of the day I can't get Alice's expression or words out of my head. I'm starting to feel like I'm being played, and I don't like it one bit. If Alice knows, that means Bella remembers and has talked about it to her. Maybe to Rose as well. But does she think I don't remember? Fuck. I'm confused.

I turn in earlier than everyone else, not really in the mood for socializing as I mull the situation over in my head. I should've known it wouldn't be this easy. For all I know, Bella's said something horrible about me to them—how else to account for Alice's look?

The next day, I try and push the incident out of my head to enjoy the festival. We've decided to take turns manning our booth, and I'm on the first shift.

"You guys need help?" Bella asks, peeking out of her tent.

"If you want," I tell her.

"I want."

Two minutes later, she scrambles out of the nylon flap, fully dressed and ready to go. I try not to gape as she knots her shirt up at the side, exposing a fair amount of her belly.

"All set?" I ask as she smoothes her shorts down.

"Yep. Let's go get people drunk!"

"You guys are so loud," Alice complains from inside the tent. "Shut up. I need my beauty rest."

"I'll wake you next millennium," I reply.

"Burn in Hell, Cullen."

"See you there, Brandon."

/S8B\\\

The festival is huge, with over a hundred and fifty brewery stands—that's a lot of beer. It's great to be here without Victoria's drama.

Once we have three kegs tapped and ready to go, Emmett takes off back to the site to make coffee, leaving Bella and me to take the first shift.

At first, there aren't that many people, but by 11 o'clock, the field has begun to fill up. I know that by three, the line'll be so long we'll need another person to help.

Emmett and Rose return to relieve us at around noon. Bella's stomach is growling, and we decide to hit up the food tent.

Bella grabs a slice of pizza, and I choose a steak kabob. We're just about to go find a seat at a nearby picnic table when she nearly collides with Peter. Startled, she drops her pizza face down on the grass.

"Shit, shit!" Peter says. "I'm so sorry."

Did that fucker do that on purpose?

"It's okay," Bella replies forlornly, nudging her lunch with the toe of her shoe. "It happens."

Peter grins at her before noticing me. "Hey! Edward. Good to see you, man."

Not likewise.

"Are you going to introduce me?" Bella asks me.

"Sure, sorry. Bella, this is Peter. He and his partner run Stone's Throw. Peter, Bella." My fucking girl, asshole.

"Stone's Throw?" she asks. "Hey, are you the guys that make that awesome Mocha Porter?" Apparently, Bella's beer "homework" has paid off, but this time I'm pretty sure I regret giving it to her.

"Midnight Run? Yep, that's us."

"That stuff is amazing," she says sincerely.

"Thanks. Glad you like it."

"The dark malt is just perfect. And it has this subtle sweetness that's not overpowering like some of them can be."

"Exactly!" he exclaims. "That's what we're going for." Peter glances down at her pizza and gives her arm a light touch. "Hey, let me buy you another slice."

"That would be nice, thanks."

"No problem, it's the least I could do," he says.

Bella turns to me and eyes the lunch in my hands. "Edward, yours is getting cold. Why don't you go eat? I'll meet you over there in a few."

I think this plan sucks, but what the fuck can I say?

"Yeah, we'll meet you," Peter affirms.

Just wonderful.

I'm nearly finished by the time they come back, laughing about something. Looks like the asshole bought himself a slice as well.

"Sorry, sorry," she says with an apologetic smile. "The line was fucklong."

"Fucklong? Haven't heard that one before," Peter chimes in.

"Yeah, well then you haven't lived," Bella comments wryly. I secretly smile to myself.

For the most part, though, they seem to get along well. By this time, he's probably figured out she's single. Bella tries to include me in the conversation, but I'm a sulky, sullen asshole. Peter and I have always been friendly. He's a nice guy, and there's no reason he shouldn't like her.

But that doesn't mean I don't want to kick him in the nuts.

When we decide to return back to our booth, Peter tags along. He promises to stop by our site later that night with Alec for a celebratory drink after it's all over. Bella welcomes this news with a moderate amount of enthusiasm. I'd rather she showed none.

"What're you so grumpy about?" she asks once Rose and Emmett have gone.

"Am I grumpy?" I ask.

"Yeah. More so than usual."

"That's a feat."

"It really is."

A few people approach, and for a while, we're extremely busy. Alice and Jasper come to help, and I could probably leave, but I love being here, talking to people about beer. My mood lightens considerably as the day wears on. Just like I predicted, everyone loves the newly ramped up Three Frog. The porter and the wheat get their fair share of praise as well, but by about four o'clock we've nearly kicked the second keg of IPA.

"Whew," Bella says, taking a seat on one of our ice coolers while Jasper and Emmett man the kegs. "I'm beat."

"Why don't you go back and take a rest?"

"Really? Oh, man, that sounds good. I really need a shower, too. I'm covered with beer."

I glance down at her Cullen Creek tee. She's right; it's soaked. God, she looks fucking hot, and I wonder if she'd let me help her clean up. I could do it with my tongue . . .

"Okay. Just watch out for bears," I tease, keeping a straight face.

"Bears?" Her eyes widen.

"Yeah. They love beer. Just watch it."

"Shut up, sausage," she says, narrowing her eyes and swatting at me with her bar towel. I side step her attack, rolling up my own and giving her a taste of own medicine. She should know that after eighteen years of living with Emmett, I've perfected my technique. I hit her just at the base of her hip, and she squeals.

"Ow! You sonofa—"

"Don't dish it if you can't take it."

"You are SO DEAD!" she comes at me again, and this time she's quick—she goes right for the goods. I barely manage to deflect the blow with a quick turn of my leg.

"Fucking hell!"

"What was that you were saying before?"

"Kids, kids, kids," Emmett says, turning around and slinging his arms around both of our shoulders. "Save it for later."

Bella blushes brightly, wriggling out from under his grasp.

"All right. I'm going. See you guys."

I'm distracted watching Bella walk away, so I'm not prepared when Emmett gives me a light kidney punch.

"Dude, go after her."

"I can't."

"You pussy."

Fuck. He's so right.

/S8B\\\

Annoyingly true to his word, Peter shows up with Alec at around seven. I'm just about to build a fire when I hear his voice. They've brought a twelve pack of the beer Bella likes, and they sit down at our picnic table, making themselves annoyingly comfortable. Emmett and Jasper join them, offering some of our beer—our last keg of the wheat is still about half full.

Bella, Rose, and Alice emerge from their tent at the sound of new voices, and I notice with a start Bella's changed into a dress. This one is longer than the one I saw her wear last week, but it's one of those that ties behind the neck, leaving most of her back bare. Her back . . . fuck.

"You need any help," she asks, coming over to me with another beer extended in her hand. It's one of theirs. I take it anyway.

"You know something about building fires?"

"I'm from Washington. It's like a rite of passage. Survival technique and all."

"Well, let's see what you got then," I say, standing up from my kneeling position. With surety, Bella kneels down, bunching her skirt up with one hand. She collects a pile of kindling and neatly begins stacking a pyramid of small twigs on top of it . . . I watch with pleasure as the small fire roars to life. Once it's burning strongly, she places a few larger logs on top. I worry about her long hair getting in the way, but she seems to know what she's doing.

"Not bad there, girl," Peter says from behind us. Bella stands from her crouching position, dusting her hands off.

"Thanks," she says. "But you know, girls can build fires too."

"Really? I thought it was genetic," he quips.

"You better be glad I like your beer," she replies with a smile. She can't like him, can she?

You waited too long to make your move, idiot.

The evening wears on, and Peter and Alec stay for dinner. We all pull chairs around the fire and roast various kinds of meat on sticks. Bella gives me a knowing glance as I immediately go for the Italian sausage, but I eat it with relish to spite her. She, of course, opts for a sickly-looking tofu stick.

We play a couple of stupid question and answer drinking games, keeping it light, but I'm not in the mood to get drunk. I notice with some alarm that Peter's moving in on Bella. She's shivering a little in her dress—Maine nights are cool—and he offers her his sweatshirt.

That is just too fucking much. I'm so pissed at myself. Obviously I can't handle her being with anyone else . . . I can't. As long as she's in my life, she has to be mine . . . and only mine.

He leans over to whisper something in her ear, and she giggles. Does anyone else notice this shit?

Emmett clearly does because he's looking at me like I'm the asshole.

The night wears on, and I get more and more enraged. I'm no longer drinking anything; I know if I do, I'll fucking lose it. Instead, I glare at Peter from across the fire, but he doesn't seem to notice.

Bella does, though—once or twice I catch her looking at me strangely while I attempt to bore holes into Peter's head with my death stare.

At around eleven, some people start to drift off. Rose and Alice are the first to go, followed by Jasper—but there's no way I'm leaving Bella out here with those guys. No way.

Bella says she needs to use the bathroom. I immediately stand, grabbing a nearby flashlight.

"I'll come with you."

Peter looks a little put out, but hey, fucker, I beat you to it.

"Yeah, we gotta get going, anyway, Pete. It's a long day tomorrow." Alec's suggestion might just make him my favorite person right about now.

Bella smiles and peels Peter's sweatshirt off, handing it to him. "It was nice to met you both."

"Hopefully, I'll see you around sometime," Peter says. "If you're ever in Rutland . . ."

"I'll definitely stop by."

Not if I have anything to say about it.

"Sounds good."

Peter stands, and there's a moment of awkwardness as we say our goodbyes. I've basically been a dick to him all day long and now I feel kind of bad about it.

Emmett shakes their hands and says goodnight to us. I try not to look at his face because he's the most obvious motherfucker in the world. And he sure as hell knows what I'm about to do.

Once we're alone and walking towards the bathroom, the silent tension between us is so thick it's almost painful.

"I wouldn't want you to run into any bears," I murmur as we follow the soft light of the flashlight down the rocky path.

"You're such a liar," she whispers.

"I never lie about such important things."

Bella shudders a little from the cold; she's fucking freezing. I wrap my arm around her without thinking. Suddenly, we're not walking anymore. She leans into me with her whole body, murmuring something against my chest. The contact sends a jolt through me. All these weeks of sexual frustration have me nearly insane with the need to be closer to her, to feel more of her. I drop the stupid flashlight. My other arm circles around, a desperate groan escaping me as her hands snake up and around my neck, pulling my mouth towards hers. I surrender to it completely, grunting with the connection. It's better than I remembered. I'm not drunk and I feel everything, every movement of her hot mouth as she opens it for me. Shit, it's so hot when she nips at my lower lip. She runs her fingers through my hair and scratches at my scalp, and I pull her more roughly against me. All of the reasons why I've avoided kissing her nag slightly at the back of my mind . . . Victoria . . . the divorce . . . being her boss . . . but then I remember Peter—how I felt when he made her laugh. That jealousy returns, overpowering all of my other doubts.

"You're not drunk, are you?" I pant against her mouth. "Please tell me you're not drunk."

"I'm not. I'm so not. You're not, are you?"

"No. Not at all."

Talking can wait . . . now that I have her where I want her. I try and shut off my stupid brain—Bella helps me along when her mouth returns hungrily to mine. I don't know how long we're there . . . vaguely I recall she needed to pee. But all I know is that I get to bury my face in her hair, kiss her face, and taste that cherry lip shit that's been haunting my dreams.

I run my hands up and down her back, slipping them under the material, feeling everything: her sides, her shoulder blades, the back of her neck, just barely grazing the sides of her tits. Bella's hands run over my back and lift my shirt, molding against me. She doesn't have long nails, but I sigh when I feel the light scratch against my skin.

My dick is so hard it's fucking yelling at me to somehow get her hand in my pants and around it to ease the ache. The thought of her hand around my dick nearly makes me insane, though I'm pretty sure that's not happening tonight. God do I want it to happen.

"You're driving me crazy," I growl. She moans, leaning her head back and giving me access to her neck. I go for it, sucking and licking and biting and not caring if I'm marking her. Then everyone will know she's mine. But then everyone will know my business . . . and Victoria . . . Ugh! Shut up, brain!

My hands now travel down to finally, fully, cup her ass. The perfect combination of firmness and softness . . . so round and sweet. She groans a little and presses her pelvis against me. I want her to know how hard I am.

"Edward," she whispers, pulling away for a second. "I'm sorry . . . but I really have to pee."

"Shit. I'm sorry," I say, trying to regain my sanity. "I forgot."

"Me too." We stand there for a second, just looking at each other as our breathing returns to normal. I brush her hair away from her face. Even in the moonlight I can see her lips are swollen from kissing, but she's smiling.

I'm smiling too. Like an idiot.

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**A/N: So . . . lemme hear it! Has camping lived up to your expectations so far?**

**Sorry I've been fail at review replies, but I've been writing, so I figured you didn't mind. ;)**

**Thanks so much for all of the Twitter love everyone! And I've just heart SB was rec'd in a couple of A/N's. That means the world to me, honestly! This week has just been amazing. I'm so glad you're enjoying the fun!**

**If you're interested, Strange Brew now has its very own Twilighted forum: http:/www(dot)twilighted(dot)net/forum/viewtopic(dot)php?f=44&t=14558&start=30**


	12. Risky Business

**A/N: Thanks to Mac214 for her mad beta skillz. I am beyond grateful for her help. **

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**"**_**I feel sorry for people who don't drink. When they wake up in the morning, that's as good as they're going to feel all day.**_**"  
-Frank Sinatra**

**Chapter 12: Risky Business**

I lean against a tree near the side of the campground bathroom, fidgeting with the flashlight as I wait for Bella. Now that the heat of the moment has passed, there's so much shit running through my head. Part of me still thinks this isn't such a great idea, but what is "this"? Just a kiss in the forest? No, clearly not. That part of me – the stupid, thinking part – worries about what Bella wants from me . . . about what I want, too. There's a lot to lose. Is the reward worth the risk given the circumstances?

The other part of me, growing more dominant with each passing moment, wants to sing a goddamn chorus of halleluiah and take Bella back to my truck to fuck her brains out. I'm basically doing mental calculations about the likelihood of us getting caught by one of our friends and wondering if Bella's on the pill, since I haven't carried a condom around in years. So yeah, that's the part of me ruled by my dick.

But whatever happens, there's no doubt in my mind I can't go back to just being her boss, or even just her friend, at this point. At least I know I don't want that.

A minute or so later, the toilet flushes. I hear the sound of running water, and it makes my heart beat faster—like a fucking girl.

Bella emerges seconds later, drying her hands on her dress. When she sees me, her face lights up in a shy smile.

"No paper towels."

"Ahh."

"But there _was_ a mosquito the size of a spider monkey." She shudders. "Creeped me out."

Now out in the cool night again, she wraps her arms around her body. I can sense the hesitation in her body language—she's just as unsure as I am. It immediately makes me protective.

What was that I worried about before?

"C'mere," I tell her, holding open my arms. She steps forward into my embrace, and I close my arms around her as she sighs and snuggles nearer.

"It's cold out here," she says.

"You need to get back to the tent . . . you'll freeze."

"You're warm. It's nice like this."

"Hmmmm." She feels so soft and perfect; I rub my hands over her back, trying to warm her with friction.

"Edward . . ." Her voice is soft, barely audible over the sound of the slight breeze rustling the trees around us.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry. I told Alice. And Rose."

It takes me a minute to figure out what the heck she's talking about, but my mind catches up quickly. Of course she told them. Her bluntness surprises me. After so many weeks of not communicating, I don't know how to respond. But it confirms my suspicions that she remembered the kiss after all.

"About the party?"

She sighs. "Yeah . . . I needed someone to talk to. But I promise, no one else knows."

"Emmett does."

"You told him?"

"Yeah, I did. Umm . . . can I ask you why you acted like you didn't remember?"

She scoffs a little and pulls back. "Are you kidding me? I knew you'd regret it in the morning. I just didn't want to . . . hear what a mistake it was. Or, really, to freak you out."

I wince a little—that was exactly what I'd planned to say, if not in those exact words. She was totally on to me.

"So you just . . ."

"I just kind of played it off. And then I wasn't completely sure you remembered either. I didn't want to seem like an idiot."

"You're not an idiot."

"Gee, thanks." In the moonlight, I can detect the corners of her mouth turned up in a rueful grin.

Now it's my turn to fucking man up. "Well, you did a good job. I didn't think you remembered. To be honest, I was glad. You were right: I was freaked out. It wasn't the best idea . . . given my circumstances." She stiffens a little in my arms and tries to pull away, but I hold her fast. When she realizes I'm not about to let her go, she looks up at me with wide eyes.

"Do you still feel . . . that way?"

How do I tell her the truth without frightening her away completely?

"It's complicated."

She shivers, and I realize we're in the forest in the middle of the night, standing next to a communal bathroom. Come to think of it, it smells pretty rank out here. Not exactly the perfect setting for this kind of conversation.

"I'm a big girl, Edward. I can take it," she says. But the slight tremor in her voice gives her bravado away.

I sigh, holding her tighter. It feels so right like this, just the two of us with no fucking divorce, no Victoria. If we could just stay out here, say to hell with civilization . . .

"I know you are," I say, touching the side of her face with the back of my hand. She closes her eyes, and I take the opportunity to kiss her. Her mouth responds immediately, warm and pliant against mine. This time, there's none of the frenzy like there was before, but it guts me just the same. She feels perfect. I pull away after a minute and look into her eyes, seeing through the filtering darkness that they're filled with questions.

"I don't think . . . I can stay away from you anymore," I tell her, feeling like an idiot as I say the words, but I can't stop – because right now I'm a sap, and the confused expression on her face is doing weird things to me.

"Then don't."

"But I want to be honest with you. I don't know what this means, Bella. My life is so fucked up right now."

"I know." She smiles a little, but it seems a little hesitant. I cup her cheek and kiss her again because I can't help myself.

"We need to get you warm," I say gruffly, reluctantly loosening my grip. "But this conversation isn't over. Okay?"

"Okay," she agrees. "It is colder that a witch's tit in a brass bra out here."

I chuckle, taking her hand and guiding her back towards the path. I tuck her under my arm to keep her warm as we make our way back towards the tents, to where our friends are inevitably waiting up for us. This might just be the longest bathroom break on record.

The embers of the fire are slowly dying, providing enough light to illuminate the campsite. For a second I entertain the fantasy of having Bella in my sleeping bag with me, warm and naked and trapped. Sounds about a million times more appealing than being subject to Emmett's bodily functions. But maybe sometime . . . I'll have to file that one away.

"Goodnight," she whispers, her shyness returning when she releases my hand.

"Goodnight."

But I can't just let her go like that for some reason. I grab her arm, pulling her backwards towards my truck. Using it as a shield, I sneak one more quick kiss. She smiles against my mouth, slipping her tongue against mine. It's enough to give me a semi. Hell, more than a semi. I hope to God no one's watching.

"Goodnight," she whispers against cheek. And then she's gone.

In the morning, I awake early to the sounds of the forest. My first conscious thought is the memory of Bella's tits under my hands—I only got to touch their sides, but still. The idea that maybe I'll actually get to see them makes me groan silently into my pillow and strengthens my morning wood.

But then I remember . . . shit. I didn't tell her to keep this between us—and I really don't want Alice or Rose breathing down my neck and making anything obvious before we've even figured out what "this" is.

Emmett snores slightly, and Jasper is still passed out, so I decide to get up and start a fire to brew some coffee.

None of the girls are awake yet either. I ferret around for the percolator and grounds in one of our supply bags and start gathering some kindling for a fire, all the while thinking about what the hell I'm going to do, what I want to do, and how to reconcile the two.

The sound of the tent opening makes me turn round. Bella smiles and puts her finger to her mouth, gently sliding the zipper back in place. She's wearing a hoodie about two sizes too big for her and grey sweatpants, and she looks . . . cute. She puts the hood on her head as she approaches, rubbing her hands together and blowing on them.

"Morning."

"Morning," she replies, sitting down next to me. She feeds a couple sticks into the fire, which has begun to burn strongly.

"Did you sleep good?"

"Hmm . . . not so much." Her tone sounds distant. It's possible she regrets the whole thing, and until this moment I never realized how much I don't want her to.

"Why?" I ask, despite my misgivings.

"I was afraid to go to sleep. I was afraid I'd wake up and . . . find out it didn't really happen."

"And that would have made you upset?" I feel terrible for making her feel so unsure, even though I don't know what the hell is going on. But if she was upset enough not to sleep . . . she must like me. I want to know if she likes me.

_You idiot. _

"Very."

"Is that all?"

"Or that you'd regret it," she whispers.

Looking over her shoulder at the tents, I reach out tentatively and take her cold hand. She threads our fingers together and leans against my shoulder.

"I don't regret kissing you." The feel of tongue makes my balls ache, although it immediately morphs into a terrified pang in my gut as I think of Victoria finding out. "I just … we need …"

"This has to stay a secret," she whispers, so confident and sure, and I wonder just how much she knows about what's been going on with the divorce.

"Yes."

She nods and moves away, but I pull her back.

"Stay."

"But . . ."

"Just for a minute." I just completely contradicted myself in the space of thirty seconds, but I can't help it. She's warm and soft, and I don't fucking want her to go anywhere.

"Okay," she says, resting her head on my shoulder. I wrap my arm around her and rub her arm. This is so wrong on so many levels, but when she nestles closer it feels so good I tell myself to shut the hell up. Both of us seem to tacitly agree that whatever conversation we have to have, it can wait for a more private time.

I get the coffee going, and we rehash the previous day as we wait for it to brew.

"So, how did this year compare to last? Did we do well?" she asks. Bella sits at a safe distance, but surreptitiously stretches her leg out and puts her shoe on top of mine. The playful gesture makes me smile.

"Yep. I think we did. People liked the aromatic hops in the IPA, for sure." I offer her a granola bar, and she unwraps it greedily, taking a big bite.

"Thanks, I'm starving!"

"There's more where that came from."

"You really know how to show a girl a good time." Bella rolls her eyes as she munches.

I smile back, but her comment brings back the reality of the situation, making me feel heavy. Bella seems to notice my change in demeanor and clears her throat.

"So how many of these festivals have you done?"

"Countless."

"It's fun. I'd love . . . to come again sometime . . . maybe." She focuses on the wrapper in her hands.

"I'd like that."

Bella beams, crumpling up the wrapper, and I pull the hood down over her face, grinning like a moron. She squeals and bats my hand away, and I'm tempted to kiss her when Alice pokes her head out of the tent. She sniffs the air and groans.

"Coffeeeeee."

"It'll be ready in a sec," Bella calls out, flushing as she stands. I poke the fire with a stick and wonder what the fuck is going to happen. It's a long car ride home, and I'm not exactly looking forward to hashing all of this out.

Soon, everyone is up, and we begin to pack up camp. Emmett shoots me a couple of pointed looks, but I try to remain as impassive as possible. Unfortunately, he catches me staring at Bella's ass more than once. How can I help it? She's wearing those little shorts again now that the morning's heated up and a tank top with criss-crossy things for straps. It's hot, and I'm pretty sure she's trying to torment me.

"We should stop by that swimming hole on the way home, like we did last year," Rose suggests. "It's gonna be a scorcher today."

"Great idea, babe. Maybe for lunch," Emmett agrees, putting his arm around her. "Edward?"

I shrug. "If that's what you want, it's fine with me. As long as everyone has their bathing suits."

"Who needs bathing suits?" Bella teases. She can't be fucking serious. But from the look on her face . . . she's kinda serious.

"That's true, actually," Emmett says. "It's pretty private." He raises his eyebrows at Rose, and she swats him.

"Fuck, no. There's no way I'm letting Cullen here see my tits," Alice complains.

"What tits?" I ask her.

Alice crosses her arms across her chest and scowls. Jasper lifts his head from where he's rolling our tent up and frowns.

"Be nice," Bella says softly.

"Nice? You've obviously never met me," I reply, trying to retain my composure when all I can think of is _naked Bella naked Bella naked Bella_.

"Well, we'll scope it out," Emmett says.

About a half-hour later, we're ready to go. The skinny-dipping conversation has been tabled for now, thank God. I have no interest in seeing Jasper or Emmett's balls, and there's no way I'm letting them see Bella naked, especially after all of Emmett's ass comments. No fucking way. No fucking way.

"B!" Alice calls just as Bella's about to hop up into the cab of my truck, "Ride with us!"

"But . . ." she says, her eyes darting from me to Alice.

"I'll send Jasper over. The two of them can bond or whatever."

"Umm, okay," Bella says, casting me an apologetic look. Alice is such a pain in my ass.

"Go ahead. We'll talk later," I say quietly.

"After the skinny-dipping?" she teases.

I groan and shake my head. She's not gonna let this go.

The first leg of the journey is pretty uneventful; Jasper seems unaware of anything going on between Bella and me, so either Alice has kept her yappy trap shut, or he's a good actor. Either way, it's fine with me.

By one, the temperature indicator on my dash reads 88 degrees—a fucking hot day for mid-June. We stop for some sandwiches and drinks, and the girls bring up swimming again.

"Bella," I say when the two of us are out of earshot, "I don't think this is a great idea."

"Why not?" she asks. "You have something to hide?" I know she's joking—she felt enough last night to know that's not fucking true. I just don't think it's appropriate for my perverted brother to see her. She is, after all, still our employee, even though I just kissed the ever-loving hell out of her.

"It'll be fun," she says. "Just relax."

Ha! "But—"

"Let's go guys," Rose shouts over at us, effectively ending our conversation.

The swimming hole in question is about a half mile down a side road off Route 2; we only found it by word-of-mouth last year. It's a secluded segment of a small river that pools deeply near a natural rock dam. Surrounded by forest and undetectable from the road, it's pretty awesome.

Emmett and Jasper express enthusiasm as well, clearly out-voting me, so I soon find myself clambering down a slippery embankment toward the water. Once at the bottom, I have to admit the water looks appealing.

"You aren't really going skinny-dipping, are you?" I ask Emmett. He's already removing his socks and sneakers.

He shrugs and grins.

"Live a little, Ed."

Suddenly I have an idea; it's a last ditch-effort to get someone else on my side. "It's pretty cold water, though," I say, whistling. "Remember that episode of _Seinfeld_?" The only other excuse I can think of is parasites in the water, and that'd only work on my dad.

"Fuck. I forgot about shrinkage." Emmett scratches his head and looks concerned.

"What are you two ladies gabbing about?" Jasper asks, the last to reach the bottom.

Emmett mutters something and looks down at his shoes in his hands, his excitement waning more by the minute.

I hear the girls squealing and talking behind us, and I'm afraid to look.

"I guess we could swim in our boxers," Emmett says hesitantly.

A few seconds later, Bella calls over. "What're you guys waiting for?"

I turn around to find her standing in her underwear—a cute little polka-dot bra and matching panties. She's not naked, but damn, it's close enough. The bra is a light color, and I can just barely detect the dusky hint of her nipples underneath . . . fucking perky. I want to go and wrap her in a towel and drag her away so I can stare at her all day. She places her hands on her hips and taps her foot.

Rose and Alice are already in the water. I didn't notice them getting fully undressed, but I see their clothes on the ground near Bella's feet and hear them squealing and splashing. Yeah, Alice Brandon gets on my nerves . . . but I'm still a guy. The thought of the three of them naked in the water is pretty fucking awesome.

Emmett grins and continues disrobing, as does Jasper. But there's no way I'm taking my pants off right this minute. I feel like a fucking fifth grader looking for something, anything, to hide my growing problem. If it's this bad when she's got her underwear on, I don't think I'll survive seeing her naked.

In a moment I never want to remember again, I see a flash of my brother's white ass as he takes the plunge, screaming like a girl when he hits the water.

"It's fucking cold!" he shouts.

Soon everyone is in the water except Bella and me.

"Edward?" Bella says, approaching me cautiously as she finds her footing on the rocks. "What's wrong?"

She's standing so close, and I can see everything—the swell of her breasts as she breathes, the soft white skin of her belly, her round, firm thighs. And I really, really, don't want anyone else to see her.

"You're killing me with this," I say, my eyes focused on the little bow at the center of her bra.

"I am?"

"You know you are."

"Come on in the water, Edward."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why?" she asks, breathing faster, which makes her boobs nearly bounce. The tension between us is thick as I replay the night before in my mind and wonder how it would feel to kiss her now that she's nearly naked.

"Because I won't be able to keep my hands off you. And that would . . . be bad."

"I think it would be good," she whispers.

"Not here."

Just then, Emmett shouts from the water, "Edward, you asshole, come on!"

"B! Come in!" Rose shouts, screaming when Emmett tackles her. I detect a hint of boob.

"In a sec," Bella calls back over her shoulder. My desperation reaches its peak.

"God, Bella, I don't want them to see you," I confess.

"You don't?"

"No," I say, nearly growling.

"Would it make you upset?" she asks. It reminds me of my earlier question about her sleepless night—she wants reassurance.

"Yes."

"Okay. Then I won't go in."

I almost sigh in relief, and Bella smiles softly. I know I'm being a prudish, uptight asshole, but what else is new? Something about the way she's looking at me makes me want to explain further. I can't believe the next words out of my mouth.

"In all the times I've imagined seeing you naked for the first time, there's never been an audience."

"You've imagined that?" The surprise in her voice catches me off guard.

"Are you joking?"

She shakes her head, and I realize she truly doesn't understand. _Well, why would she?_ _You've been all business for two months._ Glancing at the water to make sure no one is paying attention, I allow my thumb to travel gently over her left side, from the base of her tit to her hip. She shivers.

"No."

"Oh," she whispers. My thumb brushes against her navel before I retract my hands, balling them at my sides. I have to resist touching her.

"Were you trying to make me jealous? With Peter?"

Her face reddens a bit, and she considers her toes. "Maybe just a little."

"Well, it worked."

"I thought . . . you thought I was just a kid or something."

"You're my fucking employee, Bella," I say, sighing. "I've tried to keep things professional between us, but clearly I've failed."

"I know you're worried about that," she says, "but I promise . . . I'll be nothing but professional at the brewery. No one will have to know. I won't tell Alice or Rose, I swear."

"You're not going to file sexual harassment charges against me, are you?" I ask, half-joking. Bella looks offended.

"How could you even ask me something like that?"

"I'm sorry. It's just, if Victoria . . ."

"I hate her," Bella says with sincerity. "For doing this to you. It's not right." I'm going to kick Emmett's ass for not being able to keep his freaking mouth shut about my personal business. She clearly knows more than what I've told her.

"No, it's not," I agree.

"If I wouldn't get arrested, I'd kick her ass."

"If you wouldn't get arrested, I'd let you."

"You deserve to be happy." She glances back over her shoulder and bites the inside of her cheek. It's an unconscious impulse but so fucking sexy. The rest of them have given up on us.

"Maybe."

"No 'maybes'," she says, her expression serious.

"Come over tonight," I say impulsively. "When we get back."

She raises her eyebrow at me.

"Do you think that's a good idea?"

"No. Not at all."

"But you still want me to?"

"Yes." I make a mental note to remind her to park her truck a few houses down. For all I know Victoria's having the place watched.

"Okay," she says breathlessly. I notice a tiny mole on her neck, right under her jaw; I want to lick it.

Luckily, the sound of water sloshing distracts me. Bella takes a step backwards and laughs as our four friends emerge from the water naked, wet, and shivering.

"Shrinkage," Bella whispers to me, making me laugh along with her. "Jesus. Jasper has a huge bush."

"Watch it, goat girl," I say, a touch jealous she's noticed Jasper's package, hairy and unappealing as it is.

"Hey, Brandon," I call, just to get back at her. "Nice tits."

"Hey, you assholes, the free show is over," Alice says haughtily, stooping to grab a towel and wrap herself. Bella protests with an, "Awww," and stamps her foot.

"Bella, what gives?" Rosalie calls. "This shit was your idea!"

"Yeah, well, I changed my mind." She gives me a little smile.

"Oh, you suck!" Alice shouts back.

The four of them hurry to get dressed, and Bella and I turn around to give them some privacy. A little while later after we've eaten our sandwiches, we make the way back to our cars. Bella and I are last, and I help her up a particularly steep section of the path, giving her hand a little squeeze before releasing it.

"See you on the flip side, sausage," she whispers, raising her eyebrow coquettishly.

We're gonna have to do something about that nickname.

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**A/N: Thanks for reading! Lemme know what you think! **

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	13. Intoxication

**A/N: Thanks to Mac214 for all of her help. I'm so freaking grateful.**

**::sigh:: Another week without a beer rec. Next time, I promise. But here's the chappie!**

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"_**Do not cease to drink beer, to eat, to intoxicate thyself, to make love, and to celebrate the good days."**__**- Ancient Egyptian Credo**_

**Chapter 13: Intoxication**

After I get home, I unpack my truck and take a shower. The warm water feels fantastic after two days of cold campground water, and it helps me relax. Thoughts of Bella and the night have me kind of wired, and I decide I should probably whack off to avoid attacking her as soon as she walks in the door. My dick hardens immediately at the thought, and it doesn't take me long before I'm spurting down the drain. It's better than nothing, but it's nowhere near satisfying.

Once I'm out and dried, I flip open my phone. Another message from Bella.

_**Be there in an hour. Where do I park again?**_

Thinking of the easiest way to describe the nearby beach parking, I punch out a quick reply. It's a public lot just a few houses down from mine, so it shouldn't draw too much attention . . . that is if her truck doesn't put the entire neighborhood on alert.

It's fucking ridiculous that Victoria still has this level of control over my life—I can't even have a guest over without worrying how she'll spin it in court. For all I know, she'll insinuate I was seeing Bella while we were still together. I wouldn't put it past her, not at all.

My phone buzzes again: _**Sounds good. Very stealthy.**_

I roll my eyes and smile, imagining her sarcastic tone.

I scan my living room despondently—I haven't been home much in the past couple weeks, and it's starting to show. An hour gives me time to pick up, and that distracts me from worrying and wondering about what's going to happen. To say I'm excited at the thought of being alone with Bella doesn't quite describe it—it's that multiplied by about a thousand. We need to talk, though; I don't know what her expectations are. Maybe she thinks this is a booty call. Is this a booty call?

I don't want it to be just a booty call . . . but how much more am I ready for?

I grab a beer to calm my nerves and notice there's absolutely nothing edible in the fridge. We're shit out of luck if she's hungry. She probably wouldn't like my food anyway. I realize I don't know too much about her preferences. In some ways I feel like I know her so well, but in others I don't know much of anything. But she felt comfortable enough to open up to me about her parents . . . that's a start. I cringe when I think of her father's shooting—and Bella, the only one there to care for him. She was only a kid. The situation is beyond fucked up.

A knock on the door a few minutes later perks my ears up. I set the beer down on the counter and go to open the door, and when I do my eyes hungrily drink in the sight. Bella's wearing a dress—the same one from the time I saw her at Emmett's. I notice again at how it clings to her in all the right places. She smiles archly, looking up at me.

"Aren't you going to let me in?"

"Yeah, you better not be seen," I murmur, standing aside as she enters. My eyes follow the sway of her ass as I trail after her into the kitchen, back to my beer.

"You want one?" I ask.

She nods, looking away shyly as I fish another from the fridge and pass it to her. She takes a little sip and wipes the back of her mouth with her hand. It's only then I realize she looks different—makeup? I think she's wearing makeup. I'm not a fan of too much of the stuff, but it doesn't look like she went overboard.

She wanted to look nice, you idiot. You should tell her that.

"You look really . . . pretty," I manage.

"Thanks," she says, glancing down. "I really didn't know what to wear."

I take a sip of my beer and lean against the counter, not really sure what to do next. It's just after seven and still light outside, and Bella's in my house. This shit is weird. Obviously, she feels the awkwardness, too, because she sighs and sets her beer down.

"So, how about those Mets?" she asks.

I chuckle, shaking my head—it helps to release a little of the tension. It's incredible how she can do that—a talent. Even though she's only standing a few feet away, I want to be closer to her.

"Sorry, I'm not a great host. Come on," I say, rounding the kitchen island and holding out my hand. She clasps it readily and takes her beer with the other, and I lead her toward the living room.

We settle down on the couch, and I can feel the energy radiating between us, but I avoid pulling her into my lap. For now. Bella fidgets a little with her skirt, something I notice she does when she's nervous.

"Alice asked me what I was up to tonight," she says softly. "She wanted to go down to the pub."

"What'd you say?"

"That I was tired from the trip and wanted to stay in."

"Hmmm," I say. From her demeanor I can tell something's bothering her. "What's wrong Bella?"

She hesitates for a second, hands clasping and unclasping.

"I didn't like to lie. But I realize . . . that's how it has to be."

"Only for a few weeks," I say, correcting her. But even as I do, I wonder what the future holds.

"You have a court date set?"

"Yep, July twenty-fourth."

"That's not so far away."

I nod in agreement, but the damn day can't come fast enough.

"Look," I say finally, turning to her. "I know this is a weird situation. I wouldn't blame you for not wanting to be a part of it."

She reaches out and rests her hand on my knee, the contact just increasing my pull towards her. There's no way I can resist it, but I almost wish she would. Still, I move a little closer so our legs are touching. I take her hand and trace the lines on her palm as she regards me curiously.

"So tell me about it," she says simply.

"It seems like you already know a lot," I say, remembering her earlier comments about Victoria. Fucking Emmett.

"Yeah, but I'd rather hear it from you."

"What did the others tell you?"

"Ummm . . ." I can see her hesitate between wanting to tell me and wanting to protect her friends. "You'll get mad."

"I won't."

"Well . . . they just said Victoria was asking for a lot. A LOT. Rose told me Emmett said she wasn't backing down and that . . . maybe she had something up her sleeve."

"That's pretty much true," I say with a sigh, turning her hand over and continuing my inspection of the back of it.

"So you're worried to be seen with me, right?"

"Not_ you_," I say. "Anyone. I just want to be careful until this whole thing is over. There's no telling what she'll try to use against me. I'm probably being paranoid, but I guess that's what a nasty divorce will do."

"But it wasn't always like that,"

"No," I admit. "Not always."

Bella takes my hand, interrupting my lazy wandering fingers and squeezes, requesting me to meet her gaze. "When I first moved here, back a few years ago, you guys would come into Newton's. You looked happy. I," she blushes, her eyes darting to the side, "I thought you were . . . cute. But you wouldn't look at anyone else."

"I don't even remember you working at Newton's."

She smiles sadly. "I know. But then I saw things changed. The two of you would come in, and you wouldn't talk anymore. I could tell something was wrong."

"You're very observant," I say, surprised that she'd paid so much attention.

She shrugs. "You see a lot being a waitress. I wasn't crazy-stalking you or anything, so don't freak out. I felt bad for you. For both of you."

I lean back on the couch, remembering those times—had it really been as recently as three years ago that I was happy?

"Hmmm," I reply, lost in thought.

"So what happened?"

I sigh and scrub my face with my hands.

"You know, I used to think I was happy with Victoria. But now I see there was trouble, even at the beginning. I just didn't . . . we wanted very different things in life." That's the understatement of the year, I think ruefully. Bella nods expectantly, waiting for me to go on.

"And we fought—constantly. Victoria can be manipulative, and hell, I can be a pretty big asshole myself. It wasn't 'til after she left that I realized I wasn't in love with her. That I hadn't been for a while."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It sucks right now, but this is the best thing that could've happened. Honestly."

Bella is contemplative for a minute, and, though neither of us speaks, the silence between us feels easy.

"I just want you to know . . . I like you, Edward." It's such a simple declaration, and I already knew that much, but it's nice to hear all the same.

"I like you, too. But I don't know if my mind is in a place for . . . I don't know."

She smiles and rubs her hand along my thigh again. It's slightly alarming how affected I am by her touch. I don't know if _she_ knows, but I can tell she's trying to be comforting and not sexy. It's not really working.

"Thanks for telling me," she says. "But I wanted to say something, too. I'm not really looking for anything serious right now, if that's what's freaking you out. I don't think we need a road map for this, okay? I think maybe we should take things slow . . . see what happens."

My dick is definitely not interested in taking things slow, but my mind thinks maybe it's not such a bad idea. The way she's rubbing my leg right now makes me think it'll be nearly impossible. Maybe there's a middle ground . . .

"How slow is slow?" I ask hoarsely, my eyes focused on her hand.

"I don't know." Her voice is hesitant, unsure.

"It might be . . . difficult. Because all I want to do is kiss you right now."

"Really?"

"Hell yeah."

"Well, we've already done that. I'd say that's definitely on the table."

She leans forward, her hand still on my thigh. It's pretty much all I can think of because if she moved it about three inches higher it'd be on my cock. Right where I want it.

Slow. Slow.

I curl my hand around her neck, and she closes her eyes. I can't get over how fucking hot she looks with her lips slightly parted, just in front of my face. For me. Her top lip is especially full and tempting. Without wasting another second, I meet her mouth with mine, slowly drawing her closer to me. She sighs and leans into my chest, and I wrap my arms around her, loving the feel of soft girl on my lap. My hands slide up and down her back, rubbing gently as she threads her fingers through my hair, giving it a soft tug. It feels fucking good, so I grunt and she does it again, a little harder now.

"How's this?" she whispers.

"Pretty awesome," I say, taking her mouth again.

Our kisses are slow and hot. I take my time, learning what she likes, how she reacts to a gentle suck of her bottom lip. Her half-lidded eyes telling me she's enjoying it just as much as I am. As a testament to that, my dick is as hard as a rock and straining sideways against my fly. I have to shift her off for a second and reposition myself, groaning at the contact. I resist giving myself a tug, but I sure as hell wish she would.

But that's not exactly slow, is it?

Bella smiles against my mouth, her hand traveling down to my pants and pressing against my dick, now standing straight at attention, and confined against my stomach by the waistband of my jeans. Bella murmurs something I can't quite make out and rubs again, slowly driving me out of my mind. Not to be outdone, I let my hands travel down her back to cup her ass uncertainly, thinking about going lower. I wonder how she'd react if I lifted up her skirt and just went for it. From the sounds she's making, she'd probably love it.

Do it.

Don't do it.

She's definitely wearing a thong, and I can feel its outline; she moans and grinds down onto me, making my eyes roll back in my head. This isn't slow. We need to go slow. I know Bella's not likely to sue me for sexual harassment . . . but she's still my employee. And she's so young. I feel protective of her—I don't want to take advantage. But my dick is fucking weeping to be inside of her, and I know that's exactly what's going to happen if I don't put the brakes on. For all I know Victoria is recording us at precisely this moment.

But the thought of pulling away is fucking painful. My balls ache like nobody's business, and I know I'm a lost cause, because I haven't had a good old-fashioned dry hump in so long. She's straddling my lap now with her boobs in my face, and there's no way I can stop my hand from moving to her chest and feeling her up. I really want to see her tits. She's not wearing a bra under her dress, and they're so damn perky. I run my hands over them and she moans. Maybe I even tweak her nipple through her dress. Who can say? I'm out of my mind.

Our kisses are more fervent now, and we're grunting and panting and somewhere in my mind it dawns on me that we're fucking fooling ourselves about going slow because this certainly isn't. But with all of our clothes on it doesn't feel so bad somehow . . . I'm pretty sure there's no blood left anywhere else in my body as she moves against me.

"Fucking Christ, Bella," I whisper. I take her hips in my hands and thrust while she whimpers and kisses my neck—it feels fantastic. Soon we've built up a rhythm, and I can't tear my eyes away from her face-that is when I'm not kissing the ever-loving fuck out of her. The next words out of my mouth don't make sense to my body, at all. "Bella, we have to stop."

She whimpers a little and wraps her arms around me tightly. "Sorry," she says, catching her breath.

"That shit was hot. What are you sorry for?" My cock hates me and is pretty much ready to break off my body, but I don't want to rush this. Not while things are still so uncertain between us.

"Um . . ." Bella says, pulling away. "Too fast?"

"It was just right."

She smiles sheepishly and kisses the side of my face. "I guess it's just been a while for me. With another person," she adds deviously, smirking at my surprised expression.

Bella's pretty much just admitted she masturbates, and I wonder how often . . . that's not doing anything to get rid of my boner. I kiss her again and she moves off of my lap, but I immediately notice her chin looks raw. I rub my thumb over it gently and she winces.

"I'm sorry. I should've shaved."

"It'll be okay. I've had worse."

I raise my eyebrows, not knowing what to do with that information.

"Worse injuries, Edward, jeez," she says, rolling her eyes. She snuggles up to my side, and I put my arm around her. Her hand drifts down to my thigh again and I'm tempted . . . so tempted . . . to pick up where we left off.

"Hey, I'll be right back," I say, disentangling myself somewhat embarrassedly. I need to go get ahold of myself if we're going to spend any more time together tonight.

"Okay, I'm gonna run to the bathroom."

"Meet you back here in five?"

"Sounds like a plan," she says with a grin.

In my bathroom, I splash some water on my face and wait for my erection to deflate and consider my reflection. I look strangely relaxed, and I wonder when I'm gonna start freaking out about dry humping Bella. We have work tomorrow, and what the fuck will happen then? Will we be able to keep this a secret? Telling Emmett is probably a good idea for liability issues, but the motherfucker can't keep his mouth shut with Rose. I'll have to think about the best way to deal with this, but for now, Bella's here and I'm not gonna worry about it.

She's sitting on the couch, her legs tucked underneath her, flipping through TV channels when I come back. She smiles and pats the space next to her, and I settle down, my arm around the back of the couch behind her. Glancing at her profile, she looks unfazed. I'm not used to so little drama, and it's kind of strange. For a while, we watch a stupid reality show and make fun of the characters, but then I suggest a movie.

"What d'ya got?"

I gesture toward the DVD cabinet, and Bella pops off the sofa to investigate.

A minute or so later, she gives a triumphant "Ah-ha!" and turns back to me with a movie in her hands.

"_Jaws_?" I ask, bemused, as I stand and take it from her. She claps excitedly and nods.

"It's one of my favorites of all time."

"Really?" I'm pleasantly surprised.

"Yeah. My dad and I always used to watch it on the first day of summer. And summer's almost officially here, so . . ."

"Let's do it," I agree, smiling at her enthusiasm. I get the movie set up and notice our beers are warm. I offer her another, and she agrees with a smile.

"Lights off," Bella commands once I return with the beers. She's already made herself comfortable on the couch with one of Victoria's throws on her lap. I really should get rid of those things, but she seems content.

"Yes, ma'am."

"What's your policy on talking during movies?" she asks.

"Zero tolerance."

"Shit, well, then I have to warn you," she says as I settle down next to her, "I might recite the lines. I pretty much have this entire thing memorized. I'll try not to, but sometimes I can't help myself. Especially when we get to Quint's part. It's a curse."

"Well, seeing as though I've seen this movie about a hundred times, I'll make an exception." The idea of Bella reciting lines from _Jaws_ is too hilarious to pass up on.

"I see," she says, moving closer. "So you're open to bending the rules."

"On occasion."

"That's good to know." Her knowing smile and my answering one indicate we both know we're not just talking about the movie. It's strange how naturally she fits against my side. How easy it is to put my arm around her and pull her close. How distracting her presence is as the movie begins.

"Holy shit, I think I just saw her tits. And her vag," Bella says, pointing at the screen. It's the famous attack scene at the beginning of the movie. "I don't think I ever noticed that before."

"Really?"

"Clearly _you've_ noticed."

"I'm a guy."

She snorts and elbows me in the side, and I have the overwhelming urge to tickle her, but the shark attack distracts me.

"So creepy," Bella says, as the bather receives her first unfortunate bite.

"Did you see the documentary on this? How shitty the mechanical shark was?"

"You mean Bruce."

"Bruce?"

"Yeah, Bruce is the cast's nickname for the shark. Didn't you know that?" Bella turns her head towards mine in the darkness. Her dark eyes, so bright and big, reflect the shimmer of the television. I can't resist kissing the tip of her nose.

"No, I didn't."

"And you call yourself a _Jaws _fan," she says, appalled. "Speaking of nicknames, maybe that's a good one for your truck. "

"Bruce?" I ask again, feeling like a broken record.

She raises her hand to her face contemplatively. "Yes. I think so. It has so many dimensions. Bruce Springsteen. Bruce the shark. You do like Springsteen."

"How do you know?"

"Your DVDs over there. You have about three of him in concert."

"He's awesome live."

"He's hot," Bella says in agreement.

"You like older men, do you?"

"Lucky for you."

Now it's my turn to poke her in the side. She squeals, and the movie is forgotten. I have her pinned under me and she's laughing, begging for mercy as I tickle her arms, her sides, then kiss her neck. We're like that for a while, just kissing and fucking giggling like idiots until she grows serious, turning her head and her attention back to the movie.

"Get off me, get off me, it's Quint!" she says, pointing at the screen. "He's my favorite!"

We struggle upwards, and she leans forward in anticipation. True to form, she recites almost the entirety of Quint's speech at the town hall meeting from memory. Her attempt to be grizzled is hilarious.

"Y'all know me. Know how I earn a livin'. I'll catch this bird for you, but it ain't gonna be easy. Bad fish. Not like going down the pond chasin' bluegills and tommycods. This shark, swallow you whole. . ."

"Well done," I whisper once she's finished.

"Oh, this is nothing. You should see me with _Wayne's World_."

"Wasn't that before your time?"

She shrugs. "It's a classic."

"I have that one, too."

"We'll have to watch it sometime," she answers with a smile.

About halfway through the movie, I notice Bella's eyelids drooping. I pull her close, letting her head rest on my lap. She hugs my legs with her arm, and I absentmindedly rub a few strands of her long, silky hair between my fingers. So soft.

Her comment about not wanting anything serious comes back to me. I don't exactly know how I feel about that. On the one hand, it takes away a lot of pressure and anxiety—I know I'm probably not ready for anything more than just casual dating at this point. But on the other . . .

I don't like the thought of her dating anyone else. The thought of her with Seth, or any other asshole, makes my blood boil. I'm certainly not interested in anyone else.

"Bella?" I ask.

"Hmmmm," she murmurs sleepily.

"How do you feel about seeing . . . other people?"

She rolls over on her back, looking up at me in the darkness. I can't really make out her expression, but I can tell she's serious.

"Ummm. Why? Do you want to see other people?"

"No," I admit. "I was wondering if you did."

"I don't," she says simply, her hand reaching up to touch my face.

I can live with that.

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**A/N: Lemme know what you think! I'd love to hear from you.**

**Next update, probably not as quick as the last few. But we'll see. **

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	14. Freshly Brewed

**A/N: Thanks to Mac214 for ****her awesome help beta-ing this sucker. :-)  
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**"Sometimes when I reflect back on all the beer I drink I feel ashamed - Then I look into the glass and think about the workers in the brewery and all of their hopes and dreams. If I didn't drink this beer, they might be out of work and their dreams would be shattered. Then I say to myself, 'It is better that I drink this beer and let their dreams come true than be selfish and worry about my liver.'" -Jack Handy, **_**Deep Thoughts**_

**Chapter 14: Freshly Brewed  
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My harsh breathing and the steady beat of my footfalls on the path are the only sounds, aside from the occasional birdcall. I keep my pace brisk, reveling in the feel of the rising sun on my back and the relative stillness and silence of the morning.

When I woke up early this morning I felt . . . good. It's kind of strange, really, since I didn't get much sleep. Bella left late last night after the movie and a little—lot—more making out. Just for a second I considered asking her to stay—but, again, that wouldn't be taking it slow. Not that either of us is proving to be very successful in that department.

Fucking hell.

For the first time in weeks I decided to go on a jog. Running has always a great stress reliever for me, but lately I've been slacking off. I'm still in good shape, but I need to keep it up, especially considering my thirtieth birthday is just a few days away.

That's enough to break my relatively pleasant mood.

No one's mentioned anything about it, thankfully—I've never been much for parties, and this one doesn't feel particularly worthy of celebration, especially with next month's court date hanging over my head. That, and the fact that once I'm thirty I'll be eight years older than Bella. An old man indeed.

I circle around the four-mile trail that runs down near the lake and then back around to my house; by the time I finish it's already pretty hot, and my shirt is soaked through with sweat. I whip it off and mop my forehead, taking a minute to stretch in the front yard before going inside to shower.

My thoughts return to Bella. The little pants and moans she made as she straddled my lap. How fucking good it felt when she kissed my neck. Thinking about her sexy mouth has my dick hard in about twenty seconds. I haven't whacked off this often since I was a teenager, and it's more than a little embarrassing how rapidly I come.

As I pull on my jeans, I notice my phone is flashing. It's a text from Bella.

_**Ringo died. Again. Any room for one more in Bruce this morning? **_

She really needs to get rid of that piece of crap. I've never seen such an unreliable vehicle in all my life. Still, I smile to myself—she asked _me_ for a ride, not Seth. Hah!

_**Sure thing. Be there in twenty? **_

_**Thanks! I'll be outside. **_

As I grab my keys and make my way out the door, I try not to think about the way it might look for me to show up at work with Bella. Then I remind myself I offered to drive her even before we were . . . whatever we are. No one else cares. Why shouldn't I give her a ride if she needs one? She has to get to work somehow, and it's not really that much out of my way.

On impulse, I stop for coffee and a few bagels, pulling up in front of the three story duplex a couple minutes late. Bella is perched at the bottom of the stairs, resting her chin on her hands wearily. She smiles and waves when she sees me, standing and loping gracefully over to the passenger side. Holy fuck. Her shirt swishes around her legs as she climbs up into the cab, and it takes real effort to tear my eyes away. It's short and rides up over her thighs in the most distracting way. By now I know she's intentionally driving me crazy. She must be.

"Hey, stranger," she says breathlessly, slamming the door behind her.

"Morning," I say with a grin. I'm so tempted to kiss her, but there's no way we can do that in such a public place. "So, Ringo . . ."

She frowns a little and shakes her head, looking out the window forlornly at her truck. "I think he might be down for the count." Clearly the truck thing's making her upset. For some unknown reason she has a fondness for the thing.

"I'm sorry." I take a sip of my coffee before draping my arm over the seat and backing down the driveway. Out of the corner of my eye I see Bella struggling to fasten her seatbelt. She tugs the belt too harshly, emitting a little sigh. I brake the truck, taking it from her and pulling gently.

"I got it, I got it." Her tone is a bit testy as she takes the slackened belt.

"You sure about that?" I tease, letting my hand touch hers quickly before pulling away.

Once she's situated, she swivels back to face me. "I'm not a kid, Edward, jeez." The smile playing on her lips lets me know she's not really irritated.

"I know that," I offer contritely.

"Anyway, I have no idea how I'm going to afford it, but I think it's time to face the fact I need another car. I guess I'll have to ask my dad."

"Will he lend you the money?"

"Probably. At least enough for a down payment or something. I doubt I'll get much for a trade-in. Poor Ringo."

"Well, if you need an advance or . . ."

"No, Edward." Her voice is brusque as she cuts me off. "It'll be fine, really. I'm gonna give him a call after work."

It probably isn't a good idea anyway. What the hell am I thinking? It's certainly _not_ a good idea. I'm glad Bella seems to have more sense than I do.

"So," she says, changing the subject. "You don't mind giving me a lift for a few days? I'm not putting you out or anything, am I?"

"No, I don't mind at all. But just . . . we have to remember, at work . . ."

"All work. No play. I got it." She smiles wanly and looks down at her hands; I suddenly remember the bagels.

"Here," I say, passing the bag. "If you're hungry. There's a coffee for you, too."

"Are you kidding me?" She takes the bag eagerly and looks inside. "Are these from Bolton's? That's so freaking sweet, Edward."

Her gratitude makes me a little uncomfortable . . . . it's not a big deal. "Yeah, well, I didn't know what kind you liked," I mumble, "so I got a plain, a blueberry, and an everything. I'll have whatever you don't want."

Bella takes the plain bagel out of the bag and breaks it in half, munching contentedly and reaching for her coffee.

"It's black. I couldn't remember what you liked."

"This is perfect," she says, taking a sip. "Man, I needed this." I make a mental note she likes plain bagels before grabbing the everything and taking a bite. Garlicky but fucking good.

"It's nothing."

"Shut up. Yes, it is."

For a few minutes we're quiet as we drive and eat. Bella's definitely enthusiastic about food when she likes it—the little vocalizations she makes are so fucking sexy. She crosses and uncrosses her legs, and I want to run my hands along her thighs like I did last night. She grins at me, smoothing out her skirt like she knows exactly what I'm thinking. Of course she does, asshole; you're staring at her legs like a drowning man at a life preserver. A life preserver that wraps around your head.

I clear my throat and glance away. "You like your bagel?"

"It's divine," she murmurs.

Before long, we're turning into the Cullen Creek lot. It's still early, but I notice Emmett and the guys are already here. We're starting our first big batch of Oktoberfest today since we need it ready for distribution by the end of August. It's gonna be a long day.

Before we get out, Bella puts her hand on my knee. I glance around to see if anyone's around. She notices my unease and removes her hand quickly.

"Sorry. I just . . . I wanted to tell you . . . I had fun last night," she says, her voice barely audible. A soft blush creeps over her cheeks, the color of peaches.

"Me too." Fuck that I can't kiss her. I really, really want to.

"So . . . how should we play it in there?"

"As normally as possible."

"So, does that mean you're gonna make excuses to come help me behind the bar?" she asks devilishly.

Now it's my turn to be embarrassed. Of course she noticed that shit. Before I have time to protest, she shrugs and hops out of the car, not even waiting for me to go inside. I follow her swishy skirt and wonder how the hell I'm supposed to stay away from her.

Inside, Emmett's at the bar looking over the stock.

"We gotta clean these keg lines soon, bro," he says as I come in the door, gesturing under the bar. "I'll have Seth do it when he comes in."

"Nah, I'll take care of it," I say dismissively. Emmett cocks his head but doesn't say anything.

Bella pauses as she wipes down the bar. "I can do it."

"You don't know how. I'll have to show you."

"Okay," she murmurs, hiding a smile behind her hair. All of a sudden, the irony hits me. Fuck. I guess I just basically just answered her earlier question.

"So, you ready to go brew some beer?" Emmett asks.

"The malt ready?"

"Yep. The guys just put it in the mill. We should be ready to mash in a few."

"Sounds good."

He claps his hands and rubs them together. "Let's do it."

"I want to watch!" Bella exclaims.

"I'm sure you do." Emmett grins and looks back and forth between us. "You and Edward both. Voyeurs." I know he's referring to the skinny-dipping fiasco.

"Yeah, but at what price?" Bella shoots back, her hands on her hips. "I basically had to bleach my brain last night to get rid of those images. One word of advice: manscaping."

"Manscaping?" I ask, not really wanting to know.

Bella smiles and raises her eyebrow, and fuck if she doesn't eyeball my crotch. "Yeah. Trimming. It's not just for chicks anymore."

"Rose loves me, hair and all," Emmett says.

"Well, thank God for that!"

"I do trim, by the way," he says. "It's just been a while."

"Uhh . . ." I raise my hand in protest. "That's about all I can take before I lose my breakfast." Why should I worry about being appropriate with my brother around?

"He started it," Bella says, pointing at Emmett. He tosses a dirty bar towel at her, and she squeals, batting it away and squirting the bottle of bar cleaner at him. I roll my eyes and mutter under my breath, leaving the two of them behind to join the rest of the guys in the milling room.

The rest of the morning passes by in a blur. I don't have time to clean the lines because I get so swept up monitoring the temperature of the mash in the tun. Even though the controls are mechanized, it's been getting a little too warm lately for some reason. It's best to keep an eye on it just in case.

At around two o'clock, Emmett comes to drag me away for lunch since everything seems to be running smoothly on the floor.

"B's got her hands full in there." His tone is a little wary.

"What do you mean?"

"Bachelor party."

I can already hear drunken laughter and voices coming from the tasting room. They sound hammered—we're certainly not their first stop of the day. I'm immediately concerned for Bella. I know she can handle herself, but I just want to make sure she's okay and see if we need to cut them off. Instead of turning into the office, I continue on to the bar. Emmett follows.

There are eight guys, most of them sitting, but a couple stand next to the bar. No one seems to notice when we come in. A short, balding man seems to be in the midst of a joke he finds particularly riveting.

"And the cop asked where his pants were," he says loudly, leaning towards Bella across the bar. He looks a little unsteady on his feet.

"But Randy says," chimes in another guy, taller and more athletic looking. "Randy says, what pants? I was wearing a skirt!" He slaps one of his friends—undoubtedly the 'Randy' in question—on the shoulder, and the rest of them erupt into howls of laughter. I can tell Bella's trying not to roll her eyes.

"What do you think of that, Cullen Creek Tasting Room Girl?" another shouts across the room.

"Hmm. That's pretty wicked. You guys sure know how to party."

Emmett snickers behind me, and I have to fight the urge to laugh at her obviously sarcastic remark. The rest of them don't seem to get it, instead cheering in agreement.

"Those were some awesome days," the short guy says. This assertion garners more shouts from the rest of the party.

Bella slides his empty glass surreptitiously away, her eyes lighting up when they land on Emmett and me.

"Hey, look! I think you guys lucked out. Here're the owners—Emmett and Edward Cullen."

Eight pairs of eyes land on us—most of them a little out of focus.

"I'm Emmett," my brother says, stepping forward and shaking a couple hands. I do the same. For a couple minutes, I talk to the most sober guy, clearly the party organizer. He tells me they drove up from Brattleboro and are making their way across the state—luckily, being driven by a hired van. We're their third stop.

"Who's the poor bastard?" Emmett asks. Someone pats poor Randy on the back and the rest laugh. He's the youngest of them all. Sucker. If these guys really want to help him get ready for marriage, they should hire him a lawyer and get him a solid prenup. The night of my bachelor party, Emmett and Jasper took me to a cheesy strip club in Boston. I passed out before midnight after doing one too many tequila shots. They should have taken me to a good lawyer first.

Someone asks for more beer, and Bella politely declines to comply. Some murmurs of unrest erupt.

They don't seem like bad guys, though. Just drunk. A minute or so later Emmett suggests a tour, giving me a look.

"See if Seth's free," I suggest. A few of the men nod their agreement, but the short guy at the bar doesn't seem like he wants to leave.

"I'd rather stay here with this pretty lady." His comment pisses me off, even though I know he's not competition. Still. What an asshole.

The bachelor shakes his head and chuckles. "Sure you do, Bill. But I doubt Nancy'd like it."

"Yeah, but my wife's not here today," he protests. "You don't mind, do you, sweetheart?"

"I think I'm with Nancy on this one," Bella says lightly, but I can tell from the glint in her eye she's dead serious. Emmett comes in a second later, tailed by Seth, to round up the troops. I really am going to owe him one for this—it's a helluva time giving obnoxious drunks a brew tour.

"Awwww," Bill complains, as one of his friends drags him away. "You're no fun."

Once they're gone, it's just the three of us. Emmett tosses me a bag with my sandwich in it—I'd almost forgotten about lunch. He mutters something about going to call Rose and takes off without another word. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was trying to give us some alone time.

Hmm . . .

"Thanks for the save. Those guys were something else." Bella smiles and leans on the bar as I settle on one of the stools.

"Pretty drunk for two o'clock," I remark, taking a bite.

"And that one guy—he has a wife at home, and he's hitting on me. So typical." Bella rolls her eyes and begins stacking up the used glasses before pausing and turning to me. "Sorry, did that sound weird? I mean, because . . . " She gestures between us.

"I'm not really married anymore." I know she didn't mean anything by it, but it does make me feel a little shitty.

"I know," she says, "but still."

"I never would have cheated on Victoria."

"Yeah, because you're a nice guy."

"I think you have the wrong impression about me," I joke, raising my eyebrow.

"I don't."

I take another bite of my sandwich, and Bella wrinkles her nose. "What is that, anyway?"

"Roast beef."

"Doesn't it bother you to know you're eating something that was once a sentient being?"

I close my eyes and moan before giving her a cocky grin. "Not in the slightest."

Her tongue sticks out, mesmerizing me. How the fuck does she make my dick stir with such a simple gesture? It doesn't help that she's leaning over, giving me just a peek of cleavage. Yeah, I'm an ass man, but tits are pretty freaking awesome too. Bella's tits especially. Not too big, not to small. Perfect for my hands.

Fuck. What were we talking about? Right. I'm a heathen. My thoughts are proof of it.

"Don't tell me you're one of those people that thinks vegetarians are more highly evolved that meat eaters."

"I don't think; I know." She wrinkles up her nose again and hits my arm playfully. "Anyway, it's a good thing we're at work 'cause there's no way I'm kissing you if you have meat breath."

My eyes widen in alarm, glancing around the room. Bella claps her hand over her mouth and whispers, "sorry" from behind her hand. Maybe eating out here isn't the best idea after all. She blushes and turns away, going back to her work washing glasses, and I can't find it in me to be mad at her.

"Hey," I say after a minute, not liking the silence between us. "It's okay."

I round the bar and take the glass she's furiously scrubbing. The second my hand touches hers, I imagine picking her up and seating her on the bar, spreading her legs wide. Tasting her pussy until she shakes and comes.

"No harm, no foul," I whisper in her ear, grabbing a bar towel from the pile beside her. Her hair smells sweet and clean, and I allow myself a tantalizing inhale.

"You better go," she says. "I always . . . forget myself around you." She's probably right. By now we've settled into a rhythm, washing and drying glasses. To any outside observer, it's all completely innocent. What they wouldn't know is I'm about a second away from enacting my fantasy, getting closer every time she brushes against me.

"How do you think I feel?" I growl. "You're an occupational hazard in that skirt."

Bella smiles cheekily. "Oh, this old thing? It's the only thing I had clean. Seriously, I need to do laundry like it's my job."

Before I can stop myself, the words are out of my mouth. "You can do it at my house."

"Well, I better do it somewhere." She leans over, speaking behind a curtain of hair. "I couldn't even find any clean underwear this morning."

"So, what did you do?"

"Didn't wear any."

What. The. Fuck.

"You're joking," I rasp out, staring at her skirt with wide eyes. She fiddles around with the hem of it and I can't look away.

"I'm not." Her face is completely serious, but her eyes are light with mirth. She loves torturing me.

"Fuck, Bella. I want to see."

She squeals, "no" and bats my hand away as I reach my hand behind her, palming her ass lightly over the skirt. It's like I'm not even in control of my actions. I need to get the hell out of here before I do something really stupid. Well, more stupid than usual.

"Slow, remember?" she says, her grin growing. As is my dick. There's no way I'll be even semi-functional now that I have this knowledge. Is she natural down there or does she do any . . . girlscaping or whatever it's called? Fuck, what if she's bare? Not that I would mind either way, but I can't not know what she looks like. I want to touch her so fucking bad.

"You're gonna be the death of me," I groan, relinquishing a glass from my hand as she pulls at it.

"Sorry. You asked."

I just can't let it go. "Do you do that . . . a lot?"

"Do what a lot?"

She raises her eyebrows innocently.

"Not wear . . ."

"Like I said, when I run out of clean pairs." She shrugs like it's no biggie. Like it doesn't matter she's not wearing any fucking thing under that short skirt.

I groan and toss the towel onto the bar.

"What about cleaning these lines?" she says, kicking a keg with her toe. Some pretty nasty bacteria can build up in the plastic tubes that lead from the keg to the tap, and it makes the beer taste funky as well. But the thought of crouching down there now that I know Bella's pussy is just inches from my face, and uncovered . . . no, there's no way. I'd definitely attack her.

Fuck. I want to.

"Tomorrow," I grit through my teeth.

There it is again, that cheeky grin on her face. "Suit yourself. But I've heard a good pipe cleaning can be good for . . . stress relief."

"Belllaaaa," I groan. She's so fucking right.

And that's basically how the week goes.

After the first day back, it gets easier. At least for Bella. She's taking the whole thing in stride, especially when other people are around. For me it seems to be . . . more difficult.

I can't help wanting to be around her.

On Tuesday I show her how to clean the lines now that her ass is safely encased in shorts. We're on our best behavior except for a few stolen kisses and ass grabs in the dry storage room. Not too bad. No one seems to be paying much attention.

Wednesday morning brings good news—her dad's going to lend her money for a down payment on a new car, but she won't be able to look 'til the weekend. She's still a little down about Ringo, and I try to think of ways to make her laugh. It turns out I don't have to try too hard. She seems to find me amusing.

Thursday is a little more . . . interesting, at least after work. Bella comes over for pizza and a movie—which we don't watch at all. We're too busy groping and pawing each other to pay much attention. Bella ends up with her shirt off underneath me, and finally . . . finally . . . I get to see her tits. They're fucking perfect, just like I imagined. Firm, rosy nipples that I nuzzle and suck until she squeals and moans. She's not shy about giving me directions and that turns me on.

"Just like that," she mutters, writhing against me. I feel her shudder and my eyes nearly bug out of my head.

"Holy fuck. Did you just . . ."

She nods, an embarrassed flush creeping over her cheeks.

"That is so fucking hot."

"I'm sensitive," she whispers.

"I guess so." My own situation is a little less fortunate . . . in fact, I'm pretty sure I have the world's worst case of blue balls. Driving her home is painful to say the least. Neither of us has vocalized how or when to take our relationship further. It's almost like we're on pause, just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Of course, there's the matter of the divorce, but if I'm being honest with myself, one of the reasons I'm resisting is because I don't want to hurt her. I'm afraid I'll freak out, fuck this up. I'm afraid that I'm not afraid. It's too easy, too simple. Too fucking good.

On Friday I wake up, and I'm thirty.

I scrub my hands over my face and roll over, hitting the off button on my obnoxious alarm clock. The bed feels huge and empty. I roll out of it and take a leak before grabbing my sneakers from the closet.

Just before I head out the door on my run, I pause by the living room. My mind flashes to last night and I smile.

Perhaps this year won't be as bad as I thought.

* * *

_**A/N: Please review! Thanks so much for reading!**_

**Check out the Twilighted Forum for Strange Brew: http:/www(dot)twilighted(dot)net/forum/viewtopic(dot)php?f=44&t=14558**

**Or find me on Twitter: Magnolia822**


	15. Over the Hill

**A/N: Many thanks, as always, to Mac214 for her red pen and just general awesomeness. xox**

* * *

**"_May your glass be ever full. May the roof over your head be always strong. And may you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you're dead._"**  
**-Old Irish Toast**

**Chapter 15: Over the Hill**

Bella's quieter than usual on our way to work on Friday. I wonder if something's bothering her or if she's just in a weird mood. We had such a good time last night, and I hope she's not regretting it . . . shit. I don't know whether this is one of those instances where a woman wants you to ask her what's wrong or wants you to leave her the hell alone. Never could get it quite right with Victoria.

When she's lukewarm about the coffee and bagel I've brought for her—stuff she's loved all week long—I decide to take a chance.

Pulling over on the side of the road, I idle the engine and turn to her.

"Is there something wrong?"

She shrugs and looks out the window.

"Bella . . ." I try again.

When she turns back again, her eyes are full of hurt.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me it's your birthday today. Your _thirtieth_ birthday." She emphasizes the year and raises her eyebrow, as if daring me to deny it. Not exactly what I was expecting . . . but I'm also relieved it's not something worse. Like she never wants to see my idiotic ass again.

I sigh and run my hand through my hair, trying to think of how to explain. "I didn't want to make a big deal about it. Honestly, birthdays aren't my thing. This one especially."

"Oh. I thought you just . . ." She looks away again, and I can tell she's still upset. Her bottom lip pouts out a little, looking so edible it makes me want to kiss her. Of course I can't because we're on the side of the road. She probably wouldn't let me anyway since I'm clearly on her shit list.

"You thought I didn't want you to know?"

She sighs and throws up her hands in exasperation. "I don't know, Edward."

"No one knows, really. Except for Emmett . . ."

"And Alice and Jasper and Rose and Seth and probably Melanie, for all I know." She rattles off the list with a little huff.

"Who told you? Alice?"

Bella bites her lip and looks away, but I take that as confirmation and groan inwardly. This means they're definitely planning something—great. And Bella feels like the only one left out. Another part of me wonders if Alice knows more about Bella and me than I'm aware of, but Bella swore she wouldn't say anything.

She turns back to me with downcast eyes, fiddling with the hem of her shorts. "I'm sorry. It's . . . it's just . . . it hurt my feelings. It makes me felt like, well . . . I don't know. I mean, I know we have to keep this a secret . . . but I . . . I don't know."

The wounded tone of her voice makes me feel like shit. I can read between the lines. I hadn't thought about how she'd react . . . she's taken it as a sign I don't care about her. Nothing could be further from the fucking truth.

"I'm sorry," I say, reaching out and taking her hand. She doesn't withdraw, giving me hope I can make this right. "I wasn't thinking. Really, I was trying to forget about it myself."

"Why?" She considers me with her dark, wide eyes.

I shrug. "I'm never very vocal about my birthday. Not like Emmett. That fucker wants a party every day for a week. I didn't want to make a big deal of it. And, well, thirty just seems a little . . . I don't know . . ."

"Old?" she teases, a little spark of my Bella returning. Her eyes lighten a bit.

I mutter and shake my head. "I hate birthdays."

"Oh, come on, it's not so bad."

"I just never thought I'd be here . . . at this time in my life. Getting divorced was not in the cards. It just seems weird to celebrate with everything so . . ." I rub my hands over my face. "Unsettled."

Her face becomes serious. "I understand."

"So you talked to Alice?" I still haven't gotten an answer to my earlier question.

"I didn't tell her anything about us, I swear. She's just . . . shit. I've really messed up."

"What are they planning?"

Bella shakes her head and mimes zipping her lips, throwing away the invisible key. I let go of her hand and poke at the side of her ribs. She laughs and slinks against the door, uselessly trying to bat my hand away. After last night I know exactly where to tickle her.

"Stop stop stop!" she squeals.

"Tell me." I ignore her and continue my assault, unbuckling my seat belt for better access.

"No!"

"Tell me," I growl, using both hands now.

"Nooo." With her voice breathless from laughter and her face flushed, she's so beautiful. I don't give a fuck if we're on a public road—I kiss her anyway.

"Tell me," I murmur against her mouth. "Please."

Another kiss, this time with tongue. Delicious. I love how soft she is. She smiles and runs her hands along my sides. "You don't fight fair."

"Never said I did."

"They're planning a party down at the pub tonight. Alice called this morning to see if I wanted to come. Crap. I totally ruined it. God, I'm sorry, Edward. I just thought that . . . and Alice told me you didn't like birthdays. I took it personally. I shouldn't have."

"No, I understand why you did. But believe me when I say I really didn't mean it like that."

"I believe you." Her smile is back.

"You do?" Victoria never let things go so easily. Even after she accepted my apology, she'd probably bring this up a week later as just more evidence of me being a shitty husband. Nothing about Bella has ever indicated she's like that, but after years of conditioning, I can't help being skeptical.

She nods and kisses my cheek. "Yeah. But now Alice is gonna kill me."

"I'll act surprised."

"You better! You sneak."

"Thanks for telling me. I hate shit like this."

"It might be fun. You never know."

Her head rests on my shoulder, and I kiss her forehead before slowly disentangling us. We're pretty much fucked if anyone sees . . . but I'm just happy she's not pissed at me anymore.

Before I can stop myself, the words are already out of my mouth. "I'd rather spend it alone with you."

Bella blushes pink and then smiles devilishly. "I think something can be arranged."

**/S8B\\\**

The day passes quickly. Thanks to some new contacts we made at Maine Fest, we're swamped with orders for the new fall seasonal, which is now fermenting nicely in the vat. Emmett and I spend some time going through the dry stock after lunch. After one brief "happy birthday" in the morning, he hasn't mentioned it again all day.

A little more prodding on the way to work had Bella spilling all the details about the plan for tonight. Apparently, Jasper is supposed to call me from the pub at around seven and ask me to come down to meet a potential distributor.

Then I show up and "surprise!"

What a shitty, obvious plan. Even if Bella hadn't told me, I'd have figured it out. And what really irritates me is all my friends just assume I'm sitting around with nothing to do on a Friday night, waiting for their dumb asses to call me.

A month ago, they'd have been right. But now . . . As the day wears on, my thoughts often return to Bella's statement in the truck. Alone time. We've been spending a lot of alone time together this past week, mostly at my insistence. This whole secrecy thing . . . I wonder if it's wearing on her. This morning I got the sense it was, but the shit part is I don't know what else the fuck to do about it. It's just for a few more weeks . . . just a month.

But then what?

Bella said she doesn't want anything more serious, which in some ways is comforting. We're just seeing what happens, not defining anything. While that certainly takes some of the pressure off, I wonder how true it is for either of us. At least for me. Already I feel the need to just . . . be around her. And not just for sex, though the prospect of that makes my dick twitch somewhat embarrassingly in my pants. She's sweet and funny and makes me laugh like no one else. When she was upset this morning, all I wanted was to make her smile again, see her happy. I hated the idea I'd hurt her feelings and pissed her off.

But it's impossible to think of the future now that everything is so fucked and up in the air. It's a small miracle she wants anything to do with me at all.

At around five, we close up for the day, and Emmett gives me a swat on the shoulder, muttering something about having dinner plans with Rose.

"What're you up to tonight?" he asks as we walk towards our trucks.

"Oh, nothing." I try to seem as nonchalant as possible, but I really want to call him out. Dinner plans with Rose, my ass. But then I promised Bella I'd keep her secret. She trails a little ways behind us, probably rolling her eyes at my bad acting.

"Yeah, well, sorry I can't hang. I promised Rose and all." The motherfucker says it all with a straight face. Dammit, if Bella hadn't told me, I probably would've gotten depressed thinking no one cared.

"No problem," I say. "It's no big deal. You gotta do what you gotta do." Some other phrases of equal inanity spew out of my mouth, and it's a wonder Emmett doesn't notice anything weird.

"You need a ride tonight, or is Edward giving you one?" he asks, casting a glance over his shoulder at Bella. The double entendre almost makes me choke on the sip of water I've just taken.

She answers for me, but her remark is just as bad. "He sure is."

"All right. Well, I was just asking 'cause it's on my way."

I clear my throat again, regaining my wits. "Nah, I'll take her."

Emmett nods and waves, climbing into his SUV and starting his engine. Soon he's pulling away, and the two of us are left alone in the lot.

"Is that a promise?" Bella whispers, her lips gently brushing my earlobe. I turn to her, my eyes widening at her grin.

"Bella . . ." My brain protests, but my body says hell yeah. I wonder which one will win tonight.

"Come on," she says, grabbing my hand and pulling me. We're all alone at the brewery. "You've got to get me home so I can spiffy up for this party. A guy only turns thirty once, you know."

I have a feeling the brain is losing this round.

**/S8B\\\**

Just as Bella predicted, at around seven o'clock I get the call from Jasper. It's loud as hell down at the pub, and I wonder how many people they invited to this thing. He gives me the line about the distributor, and I play my role a little more convincingly this time, telling him I'll be down in a few.

During the walk from my truck to the pub, it starts to rain, and by the time I reach the door my hair is dripping wet. I try to shake myself off a bit before entering. It's one of those warm, summertime torrential downpours complete with thunder and lighting and all that shit. It doesn't bode well for the evening.

Once inside, I try to act as I normally would, bee lining straight for the bar. It's pretty funny because with my wet hair, no one recognizes me at first, and I get a chance to take in the room. Someone—probably Alice—has strung up a "Happy Birthday" banner across the ceiling. There are fucking balloons.

My eyes instantly scan the crowd for Bella, but I don't see her. That's when Irina, one of Melanie's friends, first notices me. She pokes frantically at the side of a tall blonde woman she's standing next to.

"Surprise!" she cries, trying to get the attention of others. Quickly the rest of the bar gets wind of my appearance and everyone's shouting. Emmett comes up from behind me, clapping my back hard before throwing his arm around my shoulders.

"Dinner with Rose?" I ask sarcastically.

"Yeah, we ate here before the party."

"You're an idiot."

"Happy birthday, bro. You surprised?"

"Totally. Thanks, Em."

"What else are brothers for?" he asks, squeezing my shoulders before releasing me. Suddenly I feel all sappy and shit. It's a good thing we're in a crowded room, or else I might cry like the pussy I am.

Almost immediately, I'm swept up in a tide of well-wishers. Some people I haven't seen in a while, like Alistair and Carmen, a couple of college friends. Of course Jasper, Alice, and Rose are there, along with all the guys from work. I don't notice Bella and wonder if she's here yet—maybe she's in the bathroom. Maybe . . . I'm distracted by Alice, who gives me a grudging hug and admits she had a hand in the planning. She might annoy the living shit out of me sometimes, but she's good people—that is when she's not giving me the stink-eye. She's good for Jasper, anyway.

My parents and some old family friends and acquaintances hang out near the back of the room, away from the more raucous, younger crowd. I greet them and my mother has tears in her eyes as she touches my arm, telling me how proud she is. Of what, I don't know, since I didn't really have a hand in this whole being born thing. Of course, my dad has some valuable advice he's just dying to share.

"You might want to start a daily fiber supplement, son," he says, giving me an unexpected, light hug. "After thirty, the digestive system just isn't what it used to be. And what with all that sausage—" He trails off, smiling over my shoulder. I know who it is before I even see her—I can feel her behind me.

"Dr. Cullen, Mrs. Cullen." My ears are greeted by Bella's voice, soft and shy.

"Bella dear!" my mother exclaims. "So lovely to see you. Please, it's Esme and Carlisle."

I turn around, and yeah, I sound like a douche, but she takes my breath away. She looks amazing. Her smile widens as I take her in, all of her—her hair falling down in curls over bare shoulders, a strapless dress. Mother of fuck. And heels. She must be wearing them because she's a good three inches taller than usual. I glance down and, yup, there they are. She's stunning, and I want to grab her and kiss her and tell the whole fucking room she's my girl.

_Your girl? _

Instead, I stand and stare like a dumbass and take the hand she's extending.

"Happy birthday, Edward," she says sweetly. Our eyes meet, and some silent communication happens between us—she lets me know that it's okay, she understands, and I try and tell her with a squeeze of her hand how sorry I am. I think that's what happens, anyway.

"Thanks for coming," I murmur.

"You're wet."

"It's raining."

"Is it?"

I'm still in a haze when my father says something. I drop the hand I've held for far too long. Bella talks to my parents for a while, a conversation I don't even follow because all my senses hone in on her standing next to me, the slight sway of her hips as she shifts from one leg to the other. Once her hair brushes lightly against my bare arm. Someone thrusts another beer into my hands, and I barely acknowledge him with a 'thanks'.

Then Alice comes and drags her away, and I'm forced into another conversation with my father's accountant. Wonderful. What was it I'd thought earlier about Alice being good people?

A couple of hours later, I'm surprised to find myself well on the way to being drunk. People keep buying me drinks, and like an idiot, I keep drinking. As it should be, I suppose, but not exactly conducive to my drive home. I mention it to Emmett, and he rolls his eyes.

"Dude, I'm driving you back. It's already been decided."

If I don't drive, there's no way I'm getting Bella back to my house tonight. Shit, why can't she have a car? Goddamn it.

I try to express my gratitude, but it comes out a little sullen. Bella's on the far side of the room talking to some people I don't know. It annoys me that I can't talk to her openly, not the way I want to. They get all her time while I get cornered by people I barely know, people who want to know about my success, my expansion, whose curious expressions betray they want to know more about my divorce. As if my personal life is a matter for their entertainment. It's nobody's damn business but mine.

My head gets a bit muddier, and I find another beer in my hand, getting sex eyes from the icy-looking blonde who introduces herself to me as Irina's sister, Tanya.

"I've heard so much about you from Irina," she says in a deep, throaty voice. "But I'm afraid her description didn't do you justice."

"Oh, really?" I'm unable to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

"Indeed. So tell me about your business, Edward. I find it so fascinating."

She runs her long nails across her throat and cocks her head, waiting for me to go on. She's totally full of shit.

I just want her to go away, so I answer her as succinctly as possible. While I speak she nods her head and murmurs like I'm the Dali fucking Lama. I don't want to be rude, but I'm not buying what she's selling. Or offering, whatever. I wrack my brain trying to think of some way, any way, for Bella and me to leave the party together with no one noticing. I come up with a whole lot of nothing.

"Hey, Ed. Can I talk to you for a sec?" Before I know what's happening, Emmett's grabbing my arm and pulling me towards the kitchen, leaving a disgruntled-looking Tanya behind.

"Thank Christ," I say as we enter the empty room, setting my half-drunk beer on the counter. That's it: I'm cutting myself off.

"You and Bella," he states mater-of-factly, staring me down. "There's something going on with you. Don't deny it."

"What the fuck . . . no. I don't know wha—"

Emmett rolls his eyes at me and sighs.

"I'm not an idiot, Edward. Any anyway, I've been working on that empathy shit. Being observant and stuff."

"What the . . ."

"A book Rose gave me. Nevermind . . ."

Holy crap. Rose has finally castrated him completely.

"Dude, relax, it's cool. I think it's fucking fantastic."

"How do you—"

"Don't make me list off all the obvious reasons, man. You've been driving her all week. And you're always having lunch together. She spiffed up real nice to come to your party tonight. You're possessive as hell if someone so much as looks at her. Remember the skinny dipping thing? Yeah, you didn't like the idea of her getting naked, did you?"

"Shit," I groan. "What else?"

"Bella wasn't exactly pleased with Tanya a couple minutes ago."

"What?"

"I was talking to her, and she shot a couple of eye daggers over your way."

"I hardly even spoke to her," I protest, defending myself.

"I know that. I'm pretty sure she knows that, too. But still."

"Shit."

Just then, Liam comes out of the office and through the kitchen. He starts when he notices us.

"Hey, Ed! Happy Birthday, man."

"Thanks," I reply, trying to gather if he heard us. It doesn't seem like it.

"Buy you a drink?"

"Another time. Thanks."

He nods in agreement and slaps my shoulder before heading out to join the party.

Emmett eyes follow him until he's out of earshot. "Dude, that was a close one."

"Exactly," I snap. "I'm trying not to make a show about it, Emmett. Not with all this Victoria shit going on."

Emmett's grin widens at my confirmation, and the bastard gives me a noogie like we're ten years old.

"Ahh, thank God!"

I grimace in annoyance, fighting him off. I just want to take Bella and get the hell out of here. Too bad I'm too drunk to drive. And now this Tanya thing . . . she's jealous. For some reason I don't mind.

"I need to talk to her."

"Well. Maybe Bella needs a ride home too," he says, giving me a look.

"I can't drive; I . . ." He raises his eyebrow higher. "You mean you?"

"It's my brother's thirtieth. You think I'm gonna let him leave without his lady? My car's out on thirteenth, near the bakery. Go out the back, and we'll meet you there in ten. I'll bring you home and come back."

Before I can reply, he's out the door, and I'm dumbfounded by the turn of events. What the hell is he gonna tell people?

Fifteen minutes later, I'm outside near his SUV when I hear the click of heels on the pavement. A lot of my drunkenness has dissipated, but I'd definitely fail a breathalyzer.

Bella leans on Emmett's arm, picking her way across the cobblestone street. Her legs look dangerously long in those heels.

"Hey," she says breathily as they approach.

"Hi."

I reach out my hand, and she takes it, wary that she's as irritated as Emmett said. She doesn't seem to be, though.

"Let's go, kids," Emmett says, hitting the side of his truck.

But I'm still trying to wrap my head around the logistics of this so-called 'plan'. "Isn't everyone gonna think it's a little weird - you leaving with Bella and me?"

"Nah. They don't even know you left, dude. I told everyone you passed out in the office and locked the door behind you. They think you're in there sleeping it off."

"What about my truck?"

"Ahh, we'll get it tomorrow."

Emmett grins again, proud of his diabolical scheme.

"What'd you tell Rose?"

"That Bella needed a ride. I'll be back in a few. Don't worry about it."

"Relax, Edward," Bella agrees. "You're supposed to be having fun tonight, right?"

The ride back to my place takes about fifteen minutes. Bella leans forward and kneads my neck and upper back. The muscles are tight, and it feels so good I nearly moan, almost forgetting Emmett's in the car.

"Did you have fun?" she asks.

Sort of. But I don't want to make my brother feel bad. "Yeah."

"Good." Then I feel her breath by my ear and hear her quiet, teasing voice. "Looked like you made a new friend."

"Lord." I groan.

"I'll confess I was a little jealous."

"You have no reason to be." I try to keep my voice low, and Emmett manages not to make his listening obvious.

Once we're at my house, Emmett unceremoniously kicks us out.

"I gotta get back," he says. "Night, kids."

Bella glances upwards and smiles. The rain has stopped, giving way to a cloudless night sky. Out here without a lot of city lights you can see the stars clearly, sometimes the Milky Way.

"It's beautiful," she murmurs.

While I fumble with my keys in the darkness by the doorway, it finally dawns on me that Bella's here . . . at my house. And there's no way for her to get home. Which means she's staying. Overnight.

Neither of us speaks as I open the door and turn on the hall light. Bella steps inside and immediately kicks her shoes off, reaching down and massaging her feet. Her dress is tight, stopping midway down her thigh. When she bends over, it rises up and gives me a glimpse of a place I'd like to lick.

"God, those stupid things are—"

I cut her off, taking her by the shoulders and kissing her deeply, pressing her against the wall. She murmurs something and wraps her arms around me tightly. I kiss her until I can barely stand it, feeling her bare shoulders and arms under my hands.

"So I guess Emmett knows," she says in between kisses.

"I guess so."

I'm sure there are ramifications to this, but I'm not willing to think of them just now, especially since she's scratching her fingers through my hair in the way that I love. We're like that for a while until Bella moves her hands from my head to lightly palm my dick through my jeans. I groan, getting harder under her touch. My earlier drunkenness has begun to fade into a sleepy buzz, and the way she's touching me feels so amazing. My whole body feels alive. But we're still in the hall. With some effort, I break away to lead her . . . where? The living room? So far that's been the scene of most of our groping and grinding. The bedroom? Fuck.

Bella considers me with a little smile on her face, as if aware of my uncertainty.

"Bedroom. Please."

"Are you . . ."

"Bed."

I don't know how we make it down the hall. Or how I end up shirtless. Or how Bella ends up in her underwear. But that's where we are—on my bed rolling around in various states of undress. I can't stop kissing her, and she's on top of me, moving her pelvis in a way that . . . Jesus. Just her panties and my jeans between us. She hums lightly, scratching my scalp again and driving me out of my mind with her hips.

I reach behind her and make quick work of the strange strapless bra contraption she's wearing, tossing it to the side. Then her tits are pressed up against my chest, and I moan, looking down to get an eyeful of her. All reason is out the window; I need to see all of her. I run my hands down her back to cup her ass as her hair falls around my face, creating a curtain between the world and us.

I run my fingers around the edge of her underwear and pause before gently sliding my middle fingers inside. Her ass is soft and pliant under my palms. I knead and reach lower.

"Edward," she murmurs, stilling above me. "Umm . . ."

"What's wrong?" I immediately stop what I'm doing, worried I'm going too far. Too fast. Shit, we're supposed to be going slow. God, but my balls ache and my dick is so hard I'm definitely going to have to take matters into my own hands if nothing else happens.

"I have a . . . visitor."

"At your house?"

"At . . . er . . . me. A monthly visitor."

"Ahhhh," I say, understanding dawning.

She nods. "It was an . . . unexpected one."

But little does she know, I'm a highly evolved male. I've been married, and I don't give a shit.

"I don't care," I murmur, kissing her neck.

"I do," she says. "I would feel weird." But her hand is back to palming my dick. "But I can keep my underwear on."

I'm not understanding what she's saying until I feel her unbutton my jeans and reach for the zipper.

"No. You don't have to—"

"I want to. So much. Let me."

"But Bella—"

"Edward. Please."

She kisses me again, silencing another protest.

I'm helpless to stop her from unzipping the rest of the way, and I really don't want to anyway. Her tongue is in my mouth, and her hand slips down. I twitch when her hand slowly, finally, meets my cock. She rubs gently along the underside of the head, and I want to praise Jesus, though that might be in bad form.

"So hard," she pants. "It's so hard."

"Fuck." I'm not exactly at my most literate.

She does a couple more passes, and I arch up into her touch, feeling greedy and a little out of control.

She smiles and tugs at my jeans. "I need more room to maneuver."

With Bella's assistance, my pants come off and my dick springs free and slaps my stomach. I'm feeling kind of like an asshole and kind of fucking fantastic amazing. She reaches out and takes it in her hand, pumping slowly. I groan and fight the urge to close my eyes.

"I like your suit," she says.

I glance downward, willing the little bit of blood left in my head to help the neurons fire.

"Hmm?"

"Your birthday suit."

I roll my eyes and laugh, but then she touches me again and I shut right up.

Needing to feel her, I reach out, and she leans forward, our mouths meeting and tongues sliding together as she continues to work me over. God, I want to fuck her so bad it's not even funny. My dick gets harder just thinking about driving into her, and I groan.

She pulls away, and I lean up to kiss the crap out of her some more, but then the warmth of her lips are on my cock before I can even react. She licks out, touching the tip of it with her pink tongue before taking me in, just a couple inches at a time. Wet, warm heat, and suction. Holy fuck. I can't look away from my dick disappearing and reappearing from her mouth, and it feels so fucking good and wet and what the hell did I ever do to deserve this. Her hand pumps along, moving in time with her mouth and her eyes meet mine, unashamed, brazen. She's fucking amazing.

Where the hell did she learn to give head like this? We've never really discussed any ex-boyfriends, but fuck if I'm not insanely jealous . . . that is until she cups my balls in her hand and licks down her way down my cock to tongue them.

When her hair threatens to obscure my view, I move it back gently, caressing her face and groaning. Reaching out to touch her tits, she makes a noise somewhere between a moan and a sigh. She likes that. I do it again and roll her left nipple between my thumb and forefinger, watching it pebble. Her hips are moving too. I realize with some alarm I'm nearly fucking her mouth, and I try to still my hips from thrusting upwards. She seems to like it, though. The pressure around my dick is incredible, and the way she's looking at me . . .

I'm panting and she's moaning, and I feel the build-up welling deep in my balls. It won't be long because it's been years since I've had a blowjob and even longer since I've had an awesome one.

"Bella . . ." I warn her. She murmurs something and picks up her pace, and I'm so so so close . . . I warn her again and try to move her off, but she bats me away and I'm fucking coming into her mouth. Holy fucking shit. My legs tighten and my pelvis lifts off the bed it's so good. She continues to pump me and the last couple of spurts end up on my stomach.

I am completely, completely done for.

She releases my softening dick and crawls back up to rest on the pillow next to me, a shy smile replacing the earlier devilish one. I kiss her and don't care that she tastes like my spunk.

"That was . . ." I don't even have the words.

She smiles.

"Good?"

"Fuck."

She giggles and presses in closer, her hips moving lightly against my leg. I really want to help her get off, too.

"Let me touch you," I whisper. "Outside."

Bella bites her lip and nods. My hand travels down between her legs, finding her panties are completely soaked. She moans at the contact, rocking into my hand. As promised, I stay outside, circling the place that covers her clit with my fingers, and then press against her lower. She covers my hand with hers and shows me how she likes to be touched, closing her eyes with a sigh. Soon I've got the hang of it, and it doesn't take long before she's whimpering, her flushed face and gyrating hips telling me she's close. I suck one of her perfect nipples into my mouth, biting lightly. A little breathless cry escapes her lips and she shudders, arching up and wrapping her arms around me. I continue to rub and kiss her until her body relaxes.

She smiles and opens her eyes.

"Happy birthday," she whispers. I kiss her nose.

"It is indeed."

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**A/N: So, did Edward have a good birthday? You tell me! **

**I'll try to respond to reviews this go-round! I appreciate every one of them. **

**I'd like to thank LaMomo for her review of Strange Brew on The Lemonade Stand for the week of 2/26. Check it out! http:/tehlemonadestand(dot)blogspot(dot)com/2011/02/featured-fics-this-week-on-tls(dot)html**


	16. Beer Goggles

**Disclaimer: SM owns it all. All copyrights are held by their owners and no infringement is intended. **

**Thanks to Mac214 for beta-ing this sucker. She does way more than dot my i's. Thanks chica! xox**

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**A/N: So here it is. I'm still on vacation, but figured out I can use my cell phone as a mobile hot spot! Ah, technology. And that's how much I love ya'll. Enjoy!  
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**"Beauty is in the eye of the beer holder."**  
**Kinky Friedman**

**Chapter 16: Beer Goggles**

The burn in my calves pulls as I slow to a walk on the path outside my house. The six-mile run I've just taken is the longest I've completed in a while, but I figure why not start this whole being thirty thing off on a good note? I'd already woken up nearly naked with Bella, which was a pretty good way to kick things off.

My phone vibrates, and I pull it out of my shorts, my chest still heaving.

_**I found one! It's awesome!**_

I smile at Bella's text message, using my shirt to wipe the sweat from my workout off my forehead.

Emmett had picked us up late in the morning and assured us no one at the party had noticed anything strange about our departure. Whether he knew this for a fact or was just trying to placate me is anyone's guess. If I think too much about it, I'll really go insane, so I decide not to worry.

After Em dropped us off at my truck, I drove Bella back home so she could go car shopping. I wanted to go with her, although I knew I couldn't. I know from personal experience with Victoria how those fuckers will try to take advantage of a girl who looks young and unknowledgeable. After I expressed my concern to Bella, she rolled her eyes at me and called me a sexist pig. All in jest, of course. I think. Still, she promised to take her roommate Mike along, who, she insisted, "knows shit about cars."

I smile wider thinking about last night and, even better, this morning. Waking up with her warm body wrapped around mine, naked except for her underwear, was the best. I couldn't resist pulling her on top of me and dry humping the hell out of her. Not that she seemed to mind. My morning wood _definitely_ didn't mind, especially when she wrapped her hand around it again. It was probably the first morning I'd gotten off with another person in . . . years. Victoria never was one for morning sex, which I could never really understand. It's not like she had a job she'd be late for.

I pretty much could have stayed in bed with Bella all day, but it's probably for the best she had to go. I know we need to put some space between us since we're keeping things casual.

So why am I grinning like an idiot just because she text messaged me?

_**That's great. What kind? **_I text her back before grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and settling down at the kitchen table to wait for her response.

_**Honda Civic. Silver.**_

_**No truck?**_

_**Nah. I couldn't bear to replace Ringo. :(**_

It's stupid, really stupid, but I miss her. Still, I resist asking her to drive it over to show me. It's probably not good for me to crave her company so much. I can't decide what to reply, so I don't, figuring the last message didn't necessitate a response anyway.

I take a shower, then notice the bathroom cabinet hanging precariously unhinged. One of the perks of being a homeowner is a seemingly endless supply of shit to do to ensure the house doesn't fall down. I grab my toolkit from the closet in my bedroom, smiling when I see the rumpled sheets on the bed. If Bella ever got in my head, she'd probably be alarmed at how badly I want her. It makes me feel just a little better knowing she wants me too.

At around five, Jasper calls to see what I'm up to. We haven't hung out in a while so when he proposes to come over and watch the Sox, I'm game. While I wait for him, I flip through channels aimlessly, rolling my eyes at all the inane shit that's on TV these days. There's a commercial for a blanket with sleeves that suggests buyers wear the damn thing to football games and while driving. Why not? I know some people are into public humiliation. But to me even owning one is bad enough. I flip again, pausing on a medical documentary about people with flesh-eating bacteria. Fucking hell, they had to remove the dude's whole arm . . . Jesus, that's disgusting. It's enough to make me never want to go on vacation again.

I'm starting to sound like my father. Next thing I'll be recommending anal suppository brands to complete strangers in the supermarket.

Disgusted, I shut the TV off and fling the remote onto the coffee table.

Bella hasn't called or texted back, and I wonder if I should. What is the dating protocol these days? We did text before, but past college exploits remind me how weird girls are about spending the night and then not getting a phone call. Who am I kidding? I want to hear her voice.

I dial her number, and she doesn't pick up. I'm preparing to get her voicemail when she finally does.

"Hello? Edward?" she asks breathlessly. I can hear noise in the background—some shouts of laughter, music.

"Hey, I just wanted to call and see how it went."

"Oh, the car? It's great. I got a good deal and drove it off the lot. Mike knew the guy, so it was all good."

I can barely hear her over the ambient noise. Are they having a party or something? Another loud yell erupts over the line followed by a chorus of male laughter.

"I'm glad it went well," I reply, trying to shrug off my growing irritation. My rational mind knows she has every right to have a party; she's in college for Christ's sake.

Next she says something that sounds like, "I won't need a ride on Monday," but I can't tell because it's so damn loud.

"What was that? I can't hear you."

"Sorry, sorry," she replies, more loudly now. "Let me go in the other room."

The background noise dies down a bit, and I hear the noise of a door shutting. It's instantly quieter and she lets out a little sigh.

"Sorry, Edward, my roommates have some friends over, and they're being loud and obnoxious as usual."

'Friends' probably means guys, I realize with a pang of jealously. And yeah, my stupid mind remembers that fucking awesome blowjob she gave me and, of course, wonders if any of these friends have ever been on the receiving end. I hate myself almost immediately for wondering, since what Bella did before me is really none of my business.

But more than that, it makes me uncomfortable that I know so little about her friends outside of work. Every time we've hung out together, it's been either alone or with my crowd. I've never seen what she's like with them. Of course it's unavoidable right now, but what would they think of her dating me? And do I want to hang out with a bunch of college kids? My first reaction is 'hell no', been there, done that. But would I for Bella? Would she even want me to?

"That's okay."

"What I was trying to say before is that I guess I won't need a ride next week." I think I detect a hint of disappointment in her tone. It was kinda nice having an excuse to pick her up in the morning.

"I guess not," I reply evenly. "I'm glad you found something dependable."

"I hope so. I can't wait to show you."

"Have you thought of a name yet?"

"Oh, for the car?" She chuckles. "Not yet. I don't know her well enough."

"Her?"

"Well, I know enough to know she's a girl," she replies. I laugh along with her, immediately feeling lighter. "Jeez, Edward. If you can't determine your car's gender within your first few minutes together, there's no way you're a match."

"I was not aware of that." I lean back on the couch and exhale, feeling my body relax.

"So." She pauses. I hear her fiddling around with something, then some soft music I don't recognize. "What are you up to tonight?"

"Jasper's on his way. He's coming over for the game."

"Who're they playing?"

"Angels."

"Go Angels!" she jokes.

"Hey now."

"Sorry. I kid, I kid. Well, that sounds like fun."

"Not as much as you're having."

"Oh, I don't know. I think I'd have a better time with you." This time she sounds serious, which makes me feel pretty stupid for my earlier jealousy.

"Hey, I just tried this awesome fruity beer that tasted like cherries, but Lauren already threw the bottle away. Do you know what it was?"

"Sounds like a wine cooler to me."

"It wasn't a wine cooler," she chides. "I know the difference. This one was a little sour, and Lauren said it was expensive."

"Well, then it was probably a lambic. It's a Belgian style that uses spontaneous fermentation instead of adding traditional brewers yeast. That's what give it that sour aftertaste."

"I really liked it."

A sharp rap on the door followed by a "Helloooo" interrupts my reply.

"Jasper's here. I gotta get going."

"Oh, okay." There it is again—this time it's clearly disappointment in her voice. I'd rather sit and talk with her, too.

"Have fun with your friends."

"You too."

"I'll see you later."

"Okay."

"Bye."

"Bye."

Both of us pause like idiots, not wanting to be the first one to hang up. Ridiculous.

"Bye," I say again. She murmurs the same again before the line goes dead. I flip my phone shut as Jasper enters, two beers in hand.

"You didn't have to get off the phone," he says, gesturing toward the phone in my hand. "I can entertain myself."

"No, it's fine. It wasn't important." I feel bad as soon as the lie leaves my mouth, almost like I betrayed Bella or something. Maybe I should just tell Jasper. But if I tell him, he'll definitely tell Alice. They have that kind of relationship where neither of them can keep a secret from the other. It's like they have some weird extra-sensory mechanism for detecting bullshit. And Alice can't keep her mouth shut.

So I don't say anything.

/S8B\\\

By the time Monday morning rolls around, I'm eager as hell to see Bella again. When I pull up at Cullen Creek, I notice an unfamiliar silver Honda parked near the entrance . . . this must be Bella's new car. It doesn't look more than a few years old, and I'm glad she went with a newer model. Hondas are nice, dependable cars with good safety ratings.

As soon as I enter she turns around with a wide smile. She's got her Cullen Creek shirt knotted at the side again, and now that I know what her skin feels like it's nearly torture not to be able to go over there behind the bar and kiss her. But I still feel a little awkward about the abrupt ending of our phone call from two days ago—the last time we talked. I wonder if she had a good time at the party. I wonder if she missed me like I missed her.

"Did you meet Blanche?" she asks with a tentative smile.

"Who?" I have no idea what she's talking about. She looks down at the bar, shifting uncomfortably on her feet before replying.

"My new car. It just came to me while I was driving in today. It's perfect." When she looks back at me, there's something in her eyes . . . some indeterminate expression I can't read.

"Interesting. Dare I ask why?" To give the appearance I'm doing something out here other than ogling Bella, I do a quick check of the cooler, noting that the oatmeal porter and the raz wheat need to be restocked.

"Well, she's gray, but she's sassy. She reminds me of Blanche Devereaux."

"From _The_ _Golden Girls_?"

Bella raises her eyebrows at me, a little smirk playing on the corners of her mouth.

I shrug, feeling a little sheepish at the admission. "What? My grandmother loved that show."

"Loved?"

"She died a few years ago. But yeah, I've seen an episode or two." Or twenty.

Bella offers a sympathetic smile, and I approach the bar, casting a glance over my shoulder towards the office mirror window. I suppose it doesn't matter if Emmett sees me out here talking to her, but you never know if someone else is in there. I want to be closer to her.

I duck under the divider and grab a glass, filling it with water from the tap and taking a drink, even though I'm not thirsty.

Bella watches me, the same smile on her face.

"Were you close? With your grandmother?"

"She lived in Chicago, so I didn't see her much growing up, but she'd come to visit. Sometimes we'd go out there for holidays. I never knew my dad's parents, but my mom's were great. They were married for fifty-three years."

"Wow. That's incredible," Bella murmurs. I take another drink, then set the glass down on the bar and turn to face her. A faint blush creeps over her cheeks, but there's no telling what she's thinking. It makes me want to kiss the hell out of her, but it also does something weird to my chest.

Before I know what I'm doing, I move over to where she's standing.

"I missed you," I say. The blush on her face deepens as she glances around, indicating the need for discretion.

"Me too." The words are almost inaudible from behind her curtain of hair that falls between us as she takes my glass and rinses it. I really want to sweep her hair back and kiss her neck, but I don't.

"Come over tonight? For dinner?"

"I can't tonight. I made plans with a friend."

She looks at me sideways, noticing the frown I thought I was disguising.

"A _girl_friend, Edward. My friend Denise graduated last year, but she's in town for the week visiting." Her explanation curbs my irrational jealousy again, but it's painfully clear I can't deal with her hanging out with any other guys. And there's her life outside again—her life that I don't really know much about.

"Edward." Bella's voice takes on a hint of warning, and I realize how close I'm standing. I take a step backward, shaking my head to clear it.

"Another time, then."

"Tomorrow?" she offers hesitantly. I nod and her smile brightens.

"Tomorrow."

/S8B\\\

Why the fuck do you have to soak beans for eight hours? I flip the cookbook closed and slide it away in frustration. Bella will be over in two hours, and I'm still trying to figure out what the hell to make for her. She's already skeptical of my knowledge of vegetarian cooking, and I want to impress her. Fat chance. I wrack my brain for meals I've enjoyed, noting that most of them involve meat at in some capacity or another. Many of them sausage.

Finally, I do what I have sworn never to do in this situation. I call my parents.

"Hi, Mom," I say when she picks up.

"Edward, dear! So nice to hear from you."

"You too."

"It was a lovely party the other night," she says, "But Edward, honey, you really shouldn't drink so much." I roll my eyes, remembering what Emmett had told the rest of the guests. My parents, along with everyone else, thought I was a slobbering mess, passed out in my own bar's office.

Even though I'd like to correct her, I have to go along with it. "Yeah, well. I guess got a little carried away."

"Your father was quite worried. He's concerned about your liver . . . kept carrying on about cirrhosis."

"I'm sure. Hey, listen . . . Mom, I'm trying to eat a little healthier, and I know you and dad aren't eating much meat lately. You have any good recipes?"

That gets her to perk right up. "Of course, dear. Let me get my Rolodex."

Two hours later, I'm stirring a pot of lentil and kale soup, made with just a touch of Cullen Creek Copper—my addition to my mother's recipe. That, along with the carrots, celery, garlic, parmesan rind, and tomatoes, has created a delicious aroma in my kitchen. I taste it, surprised at how good it is. It's not exactly the most glamorous looking thing, but I think Bella will like it. I hope she will, anyway.

As eight o'clock approaches, I grow a little nervous. I don't know why, but something about tonight feels different—like it's a real date and not just Bella coming over to hang out. I even set the table, debating whether or not to light candles. Is it overkill? Who the fuck am I, Martha Stewart?

I finally decide to light the damn things when there's a knock on the door. When I open it, Bella's stands there biting her lip and holding something covered in foil, which she extends out to me.

"Hi," she says. I take her offering, surprised at its heaviness. It feels like a pie plate, still warm from the oven. Did she make it?

"Hey. Come in."

I usher her inside and take a chance to look her over appreciatively. She's dressed casually in jeans and a tank top, but she looks unbelievable. I like that she wants to feel comfortable. She follows me into the kitchen, and I set the plate down on the counter, peeking under the foil.

"It's strawberry rhubarb."

"You made this?" I ask incredulously.

She nods. "The berries were in season, and they're so good. I couldn't stop eating them."

"I didn't know you baked."

"I can engage in socially prescribed gender roles . . . when it's on my own terms." Bella smiles and puts her hands on her hips, watching as I bend over and sniff it.

I fucking love pie, and this one looks amazing.

"You're incredible," I say, straightening up. Bella beams at the compliment, happy I'm pleased.

I can't take it anymore. I draw her to me and wrap my arms around her, giving her a slow kiss. Even though it's only been four days, I feel myself instantly responding to her, loving the way she kisses me back with equal vigor. I rub my hands over her back softly, and she murmurs something against my lips.

"What?" I ask, breaking away.

"I was saying it smells pretty good in here, too. Whatcha cookin'?" I reluctantly release her, and she moves past me towards the stove, using the potholder to lift the cover.

"Soup?"

"What were you expecting?"

"Hmm. Something with goat cheese. Or sausage."

"Ha ha. I do have some goat cheese ice cream that would go perfect with that pie."

Bella wrinkles her nose in disgust. "Gross."

"But you ended up liking the goat cheese thing."

"Yeah, I guess. But goat milk should never be frozen."

I don't bother to ask why, and Bella goes back to eyeing the soup. "You made this from scratch?"

"Yup. And it has beer in it."

"Of course. You are a man of many talents." She replaces the lid and wipes her hands off on her jeans, looking fucking adorable.

"And you haven't even seen half of them," I say, raising my eyebrow before kissing her again. This time, my tongue slips between her lips and she sighs, wrapping her arms around my neck.

"Thanks for having me over."

"Well, thank me later. I can't guarantee this shit is edible."

I take her hand and lead her away from the kitchen toward the dining room, observing with pleasure as her eyes widen at the set table and the fucking girly candles. Bella picks up the bottle of Pinot Noir I bought to go along with dinner, knowing it was one of her favorites from Washington.

"I can't believe you remembered."

Though I normally feel awkward when she shows appreciation for something I've done, tonight I don't. I'm glad she likes it. I release her fingers and she turns to me, putting her hands on my shoulders and straining up on her toes. I still have to bend down to let her kiss me.

"Edward, this is so nice. Really."

"I'm glad you like it. Why don't you take a seat and open the wine? I'll go grab the food. Unless you'd rather wait for a bit . . ."

"No, that sounds great. I'm famished."

I give her arm a little squeeze and go back to the kitchen. The salad and bread are already on the table, so I grab two bowls and fill them with soup, doing my damnedest not to spill them and burn the hell out of myself as I carry them to the table.

Bella's already opened the wine and poured some into each of our glasses. She's mid-sip when I re-enter, setting one of the bowls in front of her.

"This wine is so good. But it's weird not drinking beer with you."

I sit down next to her and take a sip of the wine. It is quite good.

I nod. "But the beer's in the soup."

"Right. I forgot. And it looks great. I love lentils. I hardly ever make soup in the summer."

I instantly feel a little stupid—of course, it's hot. Soup was maybe not the best choice.

Bella instantly realizes her mistake and shakes her head.

"That's not what I meant. This is so perfect. Thank you so much."

We pass the salad and bread, lapsing into a comfortable silence as we begin eating. Bella moans in appreciation when she takes her first bite of soup, and I'm pretty sure she's playing it up to make me feel better. It does taste good, though, and I'd never complain about Bella moaning under any circumstance. We chat for a while about stuff going on at the brewery, about the party last week. Bella yawns, and I remember her plans with her out-of-town friend the night before.

"So, did you have fun with your friend?"

She nods enthusiastically, swallowing a bite of food.

"We had a great time, but to tell you the truth I'm exhausted . . . I haven't seen Denise since last year, so it was great to catch up. She's living in Ohio now, working at a wildlife refuge."

"Was she in your program?"

"No, she was a bio major, but we did an internship together a couple of summers ago. That's how I got to know her."

I nod, taking a bite of salad. "What was the internship?"

"It was a breeding program for horses in Middlebury. Morgan horses."

"You like horses?"

"I love them. I used to ride a lot when I was a kid. Mostly Western when I lived in Forks, but out here most people ride English. It's so expensive, and since I don't have my own, I'd have to pay. Sometimes some of the girls in the Equine program let me exercise their horses, but yeah, I don't have much time. I'd love to have a horse one day."

Even though I've never been on a horse in my life, I'm aware enough to know the difference between the two styles. The thought of Bella riding is pretty hot.

"Do you ride at all?" she asks.

"No fucking way."

"What, don't tell me you're scared?" She pokes me in the side, her expression teasing.

"I'm not fucking scared," I lie, even though I am. "It's just weird."

"Weird why?"

"To ride something so big. It's unnatural." Bella must notice my defensiveness because she gives me a little knowing smile.

"Oh, Edward. Horses are sweet. Most of them, anyway. If you ever come with me, I'll make sure you have a docile old mare."

"You'll have to drug me first," I say, spearing a forkful of salad. Bella takes another sip of wine and closes her eyes, making an "mmm" sound. I wonder if . . . her visitor has departed for the month. It seems somewhat inappropriate to be thinking of fucking her when I'm trying to get to know her better, but my dick doesn't seem to know that. He's quite interested in getting to know her in a different way.

Once we've finished with dinner, we sit and talk until Bella finally suggests pie. I retrieve it from the kitchen along with a couple of plates, and she cuts me a giant slice, setting it proudly in front of me. I take a bite—it's like heaven, tart and tangy and sweet.

"This is fucking amazing."

"The secret is just a pinch of cinnamon and extra lemon juice," Bella declares proudly.

Another bite and I moan.

"So, you like my pie?" she asks cheekily.

"You know I do." I smirk to indicate I get her double-meaning. I haven't gone down on her yet, but I know I'll fucking love it; even imagining Bella's long legs wrapped around my head goes straight to my cock.

She grins again and goes back to her dessert.

"So what happens next year after you graduate?" As soon as I ask the question, I regret it. I really don't want to know if she's planning on moving away right now—the thought never even occurred to me before.

"Well, I'm applying to vet schools in the fall. Hopefully I get into one, but the competition is insane. It's almost as bad as med school."

"Where are you applying?"

"There're a few. My top choice is Cornell, but that one is a long shot. It's the best school in the country for what I want to do."

Cornell. I know it's somewhere in New York State. _Probably a helluva drive from here_, I think selfishly.

"Where else?"

Bella looks down at her plate, poking her piecrust listlessly. "Umm. I haven't finalized anything. But so far the University of Washington, University of Colorado, and Florida State."

Her list hits me with full force . . . all of those places are so fucking far away. She couldn't get further from Vermont if she tried. I try to get a hold of the conflicting emotions raging through me—she's in college. Yeah, she has one more year here, but she has her whole life ahead of her. She could end up anywhere. It's clear all of her plans involved a substantial move, and I'm established here. There's no fucking future in that.

_A future. _

For the first time, I realize maybe I do want a future with Bella. Or else why would I feel so shitty about her revelation? I'm in deeper than I thought.

But what am I supposed to say? We've only known each other a couple of months, and our relationship is so tenuous, even aside from the divorce. Bella's never given any indication that she wants something more serious, aside from our decision not to see other people. Then again, neither have I, but isn't it too soon? I can't get a hold of how I feel about her . . . sure, I like her. A lot. But could it be more than that?

Holy shit, that scares the fuck out of me.

Bella looks at me with wide eyes, and I realize I've been sitting silently for longer than normal. I clear my throat, attempting a smile. She deserves to have my support—it's her fucking dream. I know what it's like to have a dream.

"Wow. Sounds like you have it all figured out. That's great," I say, trying to muster as much enthusiasm as possible.

She smiles weakly and sets her fork down. "I'm still researching schools. I . . . I'm thinking about some places in Massachusetts, too. Maybe even UV."

Shit. I really don't want her changing her plans or anything because I'm being a morose asshole.

"Are those good schools?" I force another forkful of pie down my throat even though my appetite is completely gone.

"Um. Yeah. I mean they're not in the top twenty, but really, there's no guarantee I'll get into the other ones. My grades are pretty good but not great. I got a C- in Calculus and that really brought my G.P.A. down. I don't know." She's rambling a little, and I hate that I've made her uncomfortable. I need to do something to make it right again.

"Bella, you deserve to get into the best school out there. I don't know what your G.P.A. is, but any of those schools would be lucky as hell to have you."

"Thanks."

She smiles a little, but my earlier excitement about the night has faded. I feel shitty, and shitty that I made her feel shitty. Any hopes that I might have to hold onto this girl seem to be fading fast, and I didn't even know how much I wanted to hold onto her.

Bella pushes her plate away, sitting silently for a second. She looks sad, tired, and so much more fragile than I've ever seen her.

"Hey," I say. She looks up at me, and there's that weird fucking thing in my chest, almost like a pain.

"Thanks for dinner. It was so good. Did I ruin it?"

"No. No fucking way. Come on." I stand up and extend my hand. She takes it, and I lead her through the living room toward the deck, grabbing a blanket along the way. Outside the night is warm and clear, the high-pitched trill of cicadas filtering through the air. I spread the blanket out on the ground and kick off my shoes, sitting down and pulling her down next to me. She immediately snuggles against my side, following my lead when I lay on the blanket. Her head rests on my chest and I wrap my arms around her. I want her to know it's not all about sex, at least for me. I want her to know that this doesn't really change anything. Our future has always been a little hazy, and I have no right to be upset with her.

We're quiet for a little while, but then she rolls around to face me.

"I really like you, Edward," she says in a serious voice. "And it scares me a little."

"I really like you. And yeah, it scares me too."

"A lot can happen in a year."

"I know."

Good things can happen, bad things too. 'Til now I thought it was just Victoria standing in between us. But of course I was deluding myself, or at least too wrapped up in my own shit to realize that Bella's plans might not coincide with mine. One thing I know is I don't want to give her up, not yet.

"The stars look so beautiful tonight," she whispers after another extended silence.

I kiss the top of her head and listen to the cicadas, trying not to think.

/S8B\\\

The rest of the week sucks because I don't get to see Bella outside of work. Apparently the friend Denise was staying with came down with a bad cold, forcing her to crash at Bella's instead. By Thursday I'm kind of miserable, but I know it can't really be helped. I'm missing the hell out of her, and now that I know our time together will most likely be limited, I want every moment I can get. I don't care if I'm being selfish.

We spend a lot of time looking longingly at each other and texting stupid things like _**I miss you**_ and _**I miss you more**_**.** I feel like a desperate fifteen-year-old, plotting behind my parent's backs. If Emmett found out I'd never live it down.

Worse yet are the suggestive texts.

_**I have to do laundry again. **_

I gape at her message, knowing just what that means. It pretty much does me in, and I'm sure that if I don't get to fuck her soon I'll go out of my mind. Friday. Denise is leaving on Friday.

By then, Emmett's ready to kill me.

Hell, I'm ready to kill me.

The two of us are sitting in the office and having lunch, chatting about the current trend of using exotic ingredients to make beer. One of our more famous competitors is toying with the idea of making a version of a Peruvian beer, which is traditionally made by using the enzymes in saliva to begin breaking down the starches into sugars—they do this by actually chewing the grains. Of course this is done before the beer is heated and sterilized, but something tells me it's more of a gimmick than anything else. Other, less respectable brands are actually putting caffeine in beer. Ridiculous.

Trendy or not, I have no interest in making beer with fucking tree bark or some shit. Not that I don't enjoy experimenting with different blends and spices, but I'm a beer traditionalist in a lot of ways. My promise to my customers is that they'll get a great tasting, top quality product made with fresh ingredients. More often than not, I find beers that try too hard to be different wind up tasting horrible.

"Bacon beer?" Emmett suggests before taking another bite of sandwich.

"You're an idiot."

"Vy not? Fome brewies do a fmoked porter."

A smoked porter I can get behind; a bacon one sounds . . . strange. I guess it might be good. Bella would probably have a heart attack.

"Are you kidding me?"

Emmett grins with his mouth full, but then his expression changes. His eyes focus somewhere behind me, growing alarmingly large as his sandwich slips from his hand.

"What the fuck, Em?" I swivel around in my chair to face the tasting room, and before he can answer me, I've dropped my sandwich too.

I can't fucking believe it.

Victoria.

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**A/N: Gasp! Aww shit. **

**Please leave a review and let me know what you think! **

**Next update? At least a week. I'll tweet about it. **


	17. Steamroller

**A/N: Mac214 is my beta. I worship her. Seriously.  
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"**Bart, a woman is like a beer. They look good, they smell good, and you'd step over your own mother just to get one." -Homer Simpson**

**Chapter 17: Steamroller**

"What the fuck is she doing here?" I growl, scrambling out of my seat. Victoria is in the tasting room, and so is Bella. Holy shit.

"Dude," Emmett says, his eyes growing wider as they focus on the scene unfolding outside the office. Through the window I can see Victoria standing with her hands on her hips, her mouth turned up in a sneer. Bella's turned away so I can't see her face, but her stance appears equally tense. I have to act, and fast.

"Shit." I slap my desk before turning on my heel and stalking out to greet whatever fate awaits me.

Before I round the corner, I hear their voices.

" . . . pretty sure he's busy." Bella's tone is quiet and even.

"Tell him his _wife_ is here to see him," Victoria shoots back. _My wife_. The fucking nerve. My anger increases by about a hundredfold. She better have a damn good reason for being here—like dropping this whole insane alimony lawsuit—or else I'm kicking her out.

"What are you doing here?" I demand, my sudden presence startling both women. Victoria's eyes latch onto me, her expression morphing instantly from bitchy to innocent. Bella remains calm, but her face is pale as her eyes dart between the two of us. I wish I could give her some sign of comfort, but there's no way I can risk it. I tear my eyes away and back to my soon-to-be ex.

"Edward," Victoria chides with a tinkling laugh. "Don't get so upset. I was just dropping by for a chat. I haven't seen you in so long."

_And thank god for that_, I think, crossing my arms. "Cut the crap, Victoria. What do you want?"

Her eyes narrow, threatening to crack her pleasant façade.

"I'm not sure that it's appropriate to discuss such personal matters in front of employees." She glances back at Bella, who stands mutely in the periphery of my vision. If I know her, she's dying to shoot back a retort—I know I am. But thankfully she doesn't. Victoria is right, anyway; I've never liked airing my personal business in front of well, anyone. To do things differently now would certainly arouse her suspicion.

I sigh with resignation. "Fine. Come to the office."

Victoria casts a triumphant smile over at Bella that makes me completely livid, but I can't do a thing about it without potentially outing us. So I fucking grit my teeth and motion for her to follow me.

Emmett rises immediately from his chair, wiping crumbs from his lap as we enter.

"Emmett." Victoria stands with her hip jutted out, eyeing him. The two of them haven't gotten along in years, ever since he started dating Rosalie. Victoria wanted to be the pride of the family, and since my parents love Rose so much, she felt her place was usurped. I never understood how she could be jealous when my parents never saw the two of them as competitors, and of course neither did Emmett or I.

"Hey, uh, Victoria." Emmett faces her cautiously, cocking his head to one side. I don't have to read his mind to know what he's thinking. Both of us know that no good can come of this visit.

"Emmett, can we have a minute alone?" I ask, raising my eyebrow and nodding towards the door.

"Sure. I was just leaving." He punches me in the shoulder as he exits, giving me a pointed look. "If you need me I'll be in the gully."

Should I call Jenks?

I give him a cursory nod. My eyes lock on Victoria, whose surreptitious glances around the office make me nervous. She runs her fingers appraisingly over the edge of my desk. If the bitch thinks she's getting my brewery, she's got another thing coming. I chance a quick look out the window toward the taproom and notice Bella with a couple customers . . . it's too brief to discern whether she's upset or not.

Of course she's fucking upset. I need to get Victoria out of here as soon as possible.

With my hands on my hips, I glare at her. "Okay. We're alone. Now what do you want?"

"Edward . . . don't be like that," she says softly.

"Be like what?"

"So . . . abrasive. I came to talk to you."

"Does Aro know you're here?"

"Why should we bring lawyers into this?"

I try to maintain a semblance of calm despite the anger burning up my chest. Jenks has pretty much warned me against seeing her without him present, now that things have gotten so messy. But I don't really have a choice, do I?

She gazes out the window towards Bella, her brow furrowing.

"This new girl. I feel like I've seen her somewhere before, but I can't put my finger on it. Where ever did you find her?"

My heart pounds harder as I try to think of what to say. Do I mention casually that Bella worked at Newton's or leave it alone? I decide not to say anything, since she could interpret it wrongly. It's better to keep Bella out of this as much as possible.

"Emmett hired her."

"Hmmm," she says, her eyes flitting back to me. I clear my throat and try to turn her attention to the matter at hand, whatever it is.

"Bring lawyers into what? We have a court date set. Anything you have to say to me can wait until then."

She sighs and sits down in Emmett's chair, crossing her legs. When she leans back and looks up at me, just for a second I almost see the old Victoria, the one I knew in high school. But who knows how long she's been pulling the wool over my eyes? I'm not going to let her manipulate me again.

"Edward, I've been thinking . . ."

Uh-oh. I don't like that tone—too sweet. It's the one she uses when she wants something.

"About what?" I can't keep the irritation out of my voice. This is the way it always starts, a long, drawn out lead up.

"About this." She gestures between us. "Us."

"Ha! There is no us. Not anymore." I try to restrain my anger, but it's nearly impossible. _Why the fuck didn't I have Emmett stay to witness_, I wonder, glancing away from her wide-open, innocent expression.

"But there could be."

"What the fuck? What are you talking about?"

She is momentarily flustered but quickly composes herself. The smell of her sickly sweet perfume fills the enclosed space, making me want to gag.

"I knew you'd be angry . . . I'm sorry. But I can't help thinking maybe . . . we're rushing into this. The divorce. Maybe if we tried counseling or something . . . I think we could work this out."

Her words hit me like a shock of cold water, my mind racing to catch up. She can't be serious. This is surely just another mind fuck. I look her over, searching for some sign of truth.

"Rushing into this? _You_ left _me_! I would have tried to make it work at one point, but it's too goddamn late for that. I don't know what you're trying to pull here, but it's not happening. This," I gesture between us, "is not happening."

"I was angry, okay?" she says with a sigh. "I was angry you spent so much time here, away from me. I felt like we were drifting apart . . . and I hated it."

She seems so earnest, but for all I know she's acting again. I throw my hands up in the air, exasperated.

"I'm not interested in your revisionist history, Victoria. You know damn well there was more too it. We couldn't stand being in the same room with one another."

And she couldn't stop spending my money or talking shit about me to her sister.

Her next question catches me completely off guard. "Don't you love me . . . even a little?"

I consider it, wondering if I ever loved her at all or if I just thought I did. No, there was a time when I did love her. Back in high school, before things got complicated, I thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world. But it seems like another life. There's nothing—not even a flicker of that old feeling. She's trying to take me to the cleaners, and here she is asking if I could possibly still love her? Lord knows she doesn't love me.

I shake my head.

"No. I don't."

She looks at me again, tears welling—but her expression of sorrow does nothing for me. Always the consummate actress, I don't even know if she's for real—and if she is, she's crazier than I thought. All I can think of is the girl out in the tasting room and her deep brown eyes.

"Is there someone else?" she asks quietly. I can feel myself blanche under her stare, trying to think of how to respond. It's like she read my mind. I stare back, trying to regain my composure.

Her eyes narrow just a little . . . suddenly it hits me. This is all part of her little game. She's trying to get me to admit to seeing someone so she can use it against me. I know better than to lie outright, but I have no idea how to reply.

"Why are you really here, Victoria?" I demand angrily. Was this whole meeting some kind of sick setup?

"I notice you didn't answer the question." Her tone seems almost amused, which pisses me off further.

"I think you should leave."

"Okay. If that's how you want to be, fine." She stands up quickly, gathering her things. "I'll see you in court."

"Fine," I spit back. I'm so livid I can't even think of a suitable retort.

She yanks open the door with such force it bounces off the wall, walking with long, clipped strides towards the tasting room. I follow her, wanting to thwart any further interactions between her and Bella.

Back out on the floor, the customers have gone. Bella's changing one of the kegs, a concentrated look on her face that changes to worry when she glances up and notices Victoria's angry demeanor. I try and give her a smile, but she quickly turns her attention back to the keg, hair falling softly around her face. I know she's attempting to appear inconspicuous, and it just makes me feel more strongly for her.

Victoria's eyes flick to Bella before turning to me once again.

"I'll be in touch," she says, sweeping her hair over her shoulder. And before I can respond, she's gone.

I stare blankly after her, trying to make sense of the situation and feeling unsettled. And kind of like punching the wall.

"Edward?" Bella asks tentatively.

"Yeah?" I'm still watching at the door, expecting Victoria to reemerge at any second.

_I'll be in touch._

Why in the world . . . something about the way she looked at Bella doesn't sit right with me. She can't possibly know, can she?

"Are you . . . okay?" Bella's voice distracts me from my thoughts. When I finally turn to her, I notice her expression of worry, her wrinkled forehead. I want to smooth it out, tell her everything's going to be okay, but I have no fucking clue if it will.

"I think I better call my lawyer," I mutter distractedly.

Bella nods, and I give her a half-smile.

Unfortunately, I'd forgotten that Jenks is away in Los Angeles for the week. His secretary assures me she'll relay my message.

I go about the rest of the day in a pissy mood, distracted by the shitty turn of events. Of course, now that I've been waiting all week to get Bella alone, I'm terrible company. I really wanted her to come over tonight, but I'm not sure if it's a great idea at this point—not with the way that things went today with Victoria. I'm more convinced now than ever she's got someone tailing me—why else would she be giving Bella the eye? Of course that could just be her being jealous and bitchy. Fuck . . . to think about the alternative makes my head hurt.

I spend most of the day in the back with my beer—it always makes me feel better. The Oktoberfest is doing really well; the pH is perfect, and the alcohols are developing nicely. It'll only be another couple of weeks before its ready to taste. People seem to notice my mood and give me a wide berth. Emmett casts me the occasional concerned glance, but I ignore him. I'm not ready to talk. At a little after five, Jenks still hasn't called, so I try his cell again and it goes straight to voicemail.

_Some fucking lawyer_, I think, grabbing my keys from the office and getting ready to head out for the day. I round the corner, surprised by an empty tasting room. Bella's already left, which is unusual since she usually hangs out for a bit after we close at five.

She didn't even say goodbye.

Can I blame her? I'm sure Victoria's visit was the last straw—first, all my wishy-washiness, then the secrecy—now this. I feel horrible, lonely, and more than a little sorry for myself as I lock up behind me and make my way to my truck. I flip open my cell phone—no messages.

Fucking wonderful.

A couple hours later, I'm back at home drinking a beer and watching baseball, wondering what the hell I should do, whether I should call Bella or not. I'm not sure what the protocol is for calling your . . . person you're dating . . . when they finally meet your ex.

I'm just about to pick up the phone when it rings. It's Bella.

I feel my heartbeat gain speed and chide myself for being such a pussy. But I am. With more than a little trepidation, I answer. Here it is: the brush-off.

"Edward?" Her voice sounds small and sad, a little like she's been crying.

"Bella? Are you okay?"

"I'm okay. I guess. Well, not really." She sniffs. "Where are you?"

"At home."

"Can I . . . do you think it's okay if I come over?"

Without a second thought, I murmur my assent. I'm so worried about her. "Just . . . can you park in the lake lot and not at my house? And come right in, okay? Don't bother to knock."

I'm not sure what good those precautions will do if Victoria really is spying on me, but it's better than nothing.

"Okay," she answers softly. "I'll be there soon."

Twenty minutes later, the door opens, and I hear the shuffle of Bella's feet in the hallway. Immediately I jump up from the couch and go to her, surprised when she barrels directly into me. I wrap my arms around her, smoothing her hair back from her face. When she looks up—yep—she's been crying. Maybe Victoria said something horrible to her? I wouldn't put it past her.

"Thank you," she whispers, clutching me tightly. I don't know if she wants me to kiss her or not, so I settle for a brief peck on the top of her head.

"What's going on?"

"God, I've had a shitty day." She sighs, resting her cheek on my chest.

"You and me both," I joke.

"I know. I'm sorry I left before without saying goodbye . . . I just . . . I didn't think I should be seen waiting around for you, you know?"

"That was probably smart," I admit, still feeling a little hurt. I want to tell her she could have called—but then I'd officially be a girl. Like Emmett.

"And then I got a call from my dad. And Jesus, that really did me in."

So Victoria isn't the whole story. I know how much Bella loves her dad, how protective she is of him. I hope nothing bad happened.

"Let's go sit down," I suggest. "You want a beer?"

Bella nods and manages a little smile. "What do you have?"

"Only the finest—a raz wheat?"

"Sure."

I kiss her softly on the lips, glad when her smile widens. She pulls me back in for another, which makes _me_ smile.

Once we're settled on the couch, I mute the TV. Bella sighs and snuggles into the cushions, pulling her feet up underneath her. I love how she always sits like that-never with her feet dangling over the edge. She says it's because she's too short and it makes her knees hurt.

"Is everything okay with your dad?" I ask, brushing my hand over the soft skin of her arm. Her face clouds again, and she bites the inside of her cheek.

"You first. What happened today?"

I don't want to scare her, but she needs to know the truth. "I don't know. It was strange . . . she was talking like she wanted me back."

"What?" Bella's eyes widen in alarm. "What did you say?"

"I told her to save it. There's no fucking way, Bella. And anyway, I'm not really sure that's what she wanted."

Bella nods, eyes still wide—I can tell she's holding her breath.

"She asked if I was seeing anyone."

"Oh no."

"I deflected, of course. But I got a bad feeling . . . I don't know."

"Oh, shit. Shit. I shouldn't have come here," Bella says, moving to stand. "I'm so sorry. This was stupid."

"Hey, hey," I say, drawing grabbing her wrist. "I'm glad you came."

She acquiesces, sinking back down slowly. I move a little closer to her and draw her to me, wanting to keep her. I'm not sure if it was a good idea for her to come or not, but I fucking missed her all week, and I don't want her to go. I missed her too much.

"Edward, I don't want you to risk anything for me."

"Please don't worry about it now," I say soothingly, getting the feeling she's still upset about Charlie. She relaxes a little into my body, and I can't help the flood of inappropriate arousal that consumes me. No one else has ever made me hard just by fucking cuddling, for God's sake.

"I didn't say anything bad to her, I swear. She was really . . . pushy though."

"Pushy? You're not usually one to mince words."

"Fine. Super-bitchy."

"Is that all you got?"

Bella smiles a little. "She was being a c-word."

"A c-word?"

"I hate that word. It's so vile, but you know what I mean."

I do. We laugh a little, releasing some of the tension. Bella sandwiches my hand between hers, clasping our fingers together, then rubbing softly. It feels good, and I want to kiss her again, but I know there's a more pressing issue.

"What happened with your dad?"

Bella sighs. "Well, I told you how he was shot. Did I ever tell you what the injury was?"

"No."

"He was shot in the back, twice, at almost point-blank range."

"Jesus."

"One of the bullets passed through his spleen, and a piece of the other one splintered off and lodged near his spine—it was so close they didn't want to remove it because of the possible damage to nerves. And he already lost so much blood—they thought it would be safer to wait and see what happened." She sits up a little straighter to face me, and when she speaks her eyes seem focused on a place far away. I rub her knee encouragingly, and she smiles a bit at the gesture, pausing before going on.

"But all these years it's given him pain. Sometimes it's so bad he can't sleep. It's only getting worse. Now scar tissue has grown up around it, putting even more pressure on his spine."

"Oh, sweetheart," I say, kissing her. What a horrible injury to have to deal with, both for Bella and her father. No wonder she stayed home with him for a year. God, what kind of asshole shoots someone in the back?

"He's decided to go through with the operation."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"It could be," she says sadly. "There is the potential his spine could be damaged even further. But my dad wants to do it."

A tear trickles from her eye and she brushes it away, distracted.

"What do the doctors think?"

"They've been honest about the risk." She sighs deeply and looks at me.

"You know the worst part?"

"What?"

"I feel so selfish. I want him to get better, but I'm afraid the operation will go badly, and I'll have to go back to Forks to take care of him again. Not that I don't love my dad, but . . . I want to finish college. I want to be here with you . . ." she trails off, blushing at her admission.

"That's not selfish; that's human," I reply, my heart swelling at her words. If Bella's selfish, then I'm a hundred times worse. I want her with me.

"The other night when I was talking about vet school . . . it's always seemed so far away. But I realized . . . I don't know. Just . . . it all just really sucks." Her blush deepens as she fights for words, and I can't help my smile. All of a sudden the shitty day doesn't seem so shitty anymore. Of course I'd never want her to change her plans for me, but the thought that her leaving is distressing to her as well offers a little bit of comfort. She likes me.

I'm such a fucking girl.

"If something happens, I couldn't let him suffer on his own. He needs me . . ."

"It'll be all right," I promise, unsure myself but wanting to comfort her. I hope to fuck it will be. The thought of Bella leaving in a year for grad school sucks. The thought of her leaving even sooner . . . no fucking way.

"When's the operation?"

"It's scheduled in two weeks."

"Shit." Well, July is certainly shaping up to be a crappy month.

"Yeah."

"Did you tell your dad how you feel?"

"Of course he'd never let me drop out of school and come home. But he wouldn't have a choice. If he was hurt I'd do it in a second."

I touch her face, and she closes her eyes, pressing nearer. How many kids would do that for their parents? Not many.

"I told him I want to come home for the operation, but I don't have the money. He won't give it to me either, stubborn ass." She laughs fondly. "He wants me to stay here."

"I'll buy your ticket."

"Shut up, Edward. I already told you I'm not taking any of your money."

"But this is different."

"You want me to go?" she asks, quirking her brow.

"Hell no, I don't want you to go."

"Well, you sure seem eager to get rid of me. Am I not doing a good job at the brewery? Maybe you want to hire someone else after all?" A little of the sparkle is back in her eyes, the teasing look I love.

"You're doing a fucking awesome job, and you know it. But if it comes down to it, I can find someone else. If you need to go home . . . I just want you to be happy."

"Stop saying stuff like that."

"What stuff?" I ask, confused.

"Sweet stuff like that." She clambers onto my lap, straddling me with her hands on my shoulders before she leans forward and plants a kiss on my cheek.

"Why?"

"Because. It makes you very hard to resist."

"Why resist?" I joke with a smirk, running my hands up her back. No bra. Damn this woman and her aversion to undergarments. Or rather, thank fucking God. I fist the soft material of her shirt in my hands, tugging lightly.

"You pose a good question," she murmurs in my ear. I pull her closer, flush against me, kissing her neck softly. She arches her back, and my lips travel over her skin, sucking at the soft pulse point at the base of her throat.

"Mmmm," she murmurs, wriggling on my lap. I still her hips with my hands; she's driving me insane, and I'm about three seconds from ripping off her shorts and fucking her on the couch with no preliminaries.

"Bella," I warn, cocooned between her skin and hair. Heaven.

Her hands move down my chest to where I'm holding her. She covers them with her own, guiding them backwards to cup her ass. I groan at the feeling of the soft curves, the way she urges me on. "Touch me, Edward. I know you want to."

"Oh yeah?" I ask, teasing her. "How do you know that?"

"Hmmm." She gazes down at me from heavily-lidded eyes, grinding her hips down into my obviously hard cock. "Empirical observation."

"You are a science geek."

"Shut up and kiss me."

I don't need to be told twice. Her mouth is so fucking hot, melting into mine, our tongues sliding together softly. She moves her hips again, and I palm her ass through the thin material of her cotton shorts, running my hands down until I feel the smooth skin of her legs, then up again to squeeze her ass.

It doesn't take long before the two of us are panting and pressing into each other, and I pretty much hate the clothes between us. Frustrated, I tug at the waistband of Bella's shorts, fumbling for the zipper. She leans back for a second, allowing me better access. Once they're undone, I hook one arm around her, holding her to me as I slide the other hand into the front and downward, feeling the small lacy scrap of an excuse for underwear. Bella parts her thighs further and sighs as my fingers seek her out, moving the material to the side and feeling her heated flesh. It's the first time I've touched her pussy with nothing in the way.

Holy shit. She is bare. She's fucking bare, and I can't believe it, how much harder it makes me. All I feel is soft, warm, wet. I want to thank the lord for whatever stupid pop-culture phenomenon made waxing popular. I let out a weird, strangled sound, and Bella smiles against my cheek. I think I might have cursed. Bella laughs and presses into my hand, but I can't really get much leverage the way she's sitting . . . and anyway, I have to fucking see this.

Without further ado, I lift her up and rip the stupid shorts down her legs, along with the purple panties—Bella stands in front of me, biting her lip and blushing as my eyes latch onto her. Shit. Except for a little strip of hair, there's nothing but pretty pinkness just begging for a lick.

"That is so fucking sexy," I think I say. Bella replies, but there's not enough blood in my brain for me to decipher her words. My cock is definitely running the show now, and he tells me to fucking go to town.

I lean forward, cupping her ass and drawing her to me, placing a kiss just at the top, right on her clit. Bella smiles and runs her hands through my hair, murmuring. I dart my tongue out, tasting her, feeling the hard nub of flesh with the tip of my tongue, then lower, urging her to part her legs. She moans as I continue my exploration, getting a feel for what she likes—she smells like Bella and I want more. I pull her closer, kneading her ass and urging one of her legs up on the couch to give me fuller access. She's soft, wet, so fucking inviting—damn, that looks good. My cock is still uncomfortably constrained by my pants, and I palm it once to release some of the tension before giving her a long, slow lick. I go for it again, this time ending with a little suck on her clit.

"Edward," she pants, pulling harder on my hair. I guess she likes that. I do it again, alternating sucking and licking with flicks of my tongue.

Eating pussy is definitely in my top favorite sexual activities, right after fucking and getting my dick sucked—but this is Bella. Maybe it's tied with dick sucking. I want her to like it, and so I listen to the way she responds, her murmur and moans. There's something completely honest and sweet about how unashamed she is. There's nothing more unnerving than not being able to tell if a woman is getting off, but I don't have to worry about that with Bella.

But after a few minutes I realize it's probably uncomfortable for her to be standing on one leg, despite how sexy it looks, so I suggest the bedroom. At least I think I do. Maybe she does. Anyway, that's where we end up, shedding clothes as we go. I turn the light on and wait for her objection—she doesn't. Thank god, because I need to see her.

Once I have her where I want her on the bed, fully naked and spread out before me, I take the time to just stare, hoping I'm not being too creepy. I run my hands down her ribcage, over her hips, back up again to get a feel of her perfect tits. Her nipples pebble under my hands, and I bend down to suck one into my mouth, knowing how she gets off on it. Bella's definitely got the most sensitive nipples I've ever seen in a woman, and it's fucking hot how she reacts, moaning and arching off of the bed, her hands grasping at my shoulders and pulling me closer. I can't get enough of touching her, tasting her, flicking out my tongue against her warm skin, as I run my right hand down her body to rest between her thighs.

She's so wet, and I slide a finger inside, rubbing her clit with my thumb—my dick is telling me to go for it. I don't know what I'm waiting for. A sign from God?

Somehow it feels right, despite the Victoria drama—maybe because of it. Even now I can't shake the feeling that shit is about to go down, that maybe this is the only time we'll have to be together. What if she has to go back to Forks? I push those thoughts away, concentrating on the moment.

Bella sighs my name, and I realize with some embarrassment I'm humping her leg. I can't fucking help it, though, the way she's writhing. I don't even care that she's not touching me . . . I know if she does I'll come, and I want to do that inside of her if at all possible.

"Fuck," she says as I enter another finger, stretching her, moving my hand against her slippery wetness.

"Do you like that?" I move to kiss her again, running my free hand through her hair.

"Edward," she whispers with closed eyes. "Want you."

I nod, reaching over to the dresser to retrieve a condom. Bella places her hand on my arm and pulls me back before I can grab one.

"I'm on the pill," she says with wide, hopeful eyes. "And I've been tested recently. I haven't been with anyone since."

"Are you sure?" I want to make sure even though the thought of being inside of her bare is tightening my balls as we speak. Too good to be fucking true.

She nods, stretching out her arms. I go happily, kissing her again as I move between her parted thighs. My cock slides against her, just at her entrance, and her mouth opens in a soundless moan. She arches her hips up against me, and I feel her warm wetness coating me, readying me for her.

After another couple of passes, I still, watching her face carefully as I move my hand down between us to position myself. Her eyes are cloudy, lust-filled. Her tongue darts out to wet her lower lip as I push forward, finally seating myself to the hilt. Bella's eyes widen as I fill her, and I can't believe it . . . how hot she feels clenching me.

Holyfuckingshitsogoddamngood. I groan, pulling out once more just to feel the exhilaration of entering her again. She moans and widens her legs further, wrapping them around me. I move slowly at first, long deep strokes that make her gasp until the pressure of her pussy around the head of my cock is almost too much. I still my hips, listening to her sighs and moans, observing how her expression changes, loving the heated blush of her skin.

"Oh my god," she whispers as I start to move again. "More."

I swivel my pelvis on the downward thrust, trying not to come too soon. It's difficult because I'm pretty sure sex has never felt this good. Some guys think about baseball stats or their grandmother naked. I try to distract myself by naming beer varieties from A to Z.

_Amber. _

She squeezes her legs around my hips, drawing me deeper. I moan as she grabs my ass, urging me to fuck her harder.

_Baltic Porter._

_Cream Ale._

I want to go faster, but I'm already too close. I need to relax. I need to relax. But she squeezes so tightly, she's so fucking wet. I slide deeper, pushing inside and I just want to . . .

_Dubble._

_English Bitter. _

_Flavored Stout. _

_German Lager. _

_Hefeweisen. _

I can't think of a beer that begins with an 'I' no matter how hard I try, which brings me back from the edge.

_I.P.A._ Of course! I'm an idiot. Why the hell am I thinking of beer again when there's a soft girl under me?

Bella moans my name, making me feel pretty fucking proud of myself. I stroke into her, slower, concentrating on the feel of her hands raking over my back. My hips tilt lower, and, damn, I feel her muscles squeezing every inch as I move faster. Our mouths fuse together in a feverish kiss, our tongues mirroring our fucking, and Bella whimpers.

She looks so sexy, and I can tell she's getting close—I really want to make her come before I do.

I cup her ass, lifting her off the bed as I settle down on my haunches, driving into her with more force. She cries out as I work her clit with one hand, holding her hips with the other. This angle gives me a better view, and I latch my eyes onto where we're joined, the site of me sliding in and out of her beautiful bare pussy taking all of my cock. Her tits bounce with each thrust, and I don't know where to look, really; it's all so fucking hot. Bella lifts herself onto her elbows, her gaze following mine.

"That's . . . oh God," she says, closing her eyes before her head lolls backwards.

"Does that feel good?" I grunt, knowing the answer but wanting to hear her say it.

"Yes, so good." Her words stutter under the force of my thrusts, and, despite the fact that I love watching her like this, I want to be closer.

I hover over her again, and she instinctively wraps her arms and legs around me, bringing me nearer. Our mouths tangle together before I break away, kissing her neck and murmuring nonsense into her hair.

How the hell have I waited so long to do this? It's insane. I'm still fucking her, and all I'm doing is imagining the next time and the next, how I want to flip her over and take her from behind, how I want to see her ride me.

"Harder," she pants, grinding her hips upwards. "I need it harder."

Jesus. Bella talking dirty makes me crazed. I do as she asks, growing more desperate as my own orgasm approaches, trying to stave it off. She makes little breathless noises, and I try to give her the grinding she needs, feeling the ache building in my balls. Bracing myself over her with one arm, I reach down between us again, rubbing her as her sounds get louder, shaking her head from side to side as she meets me thrust for thrust. Finally she cries out, her face contorting with pleasure as she bucks her hips, trying to hold me in place—fuck, it's the sexiest thing I've ever seen. And finally I know I can let go, so I do, pistoning my hips erratically as I feel the contractions begin, her heat gripping me tightly. So. Fucking. Goodgoddamnit.

"Jesus . . . fuck . . .Bella," I moan, burying my face into her hair as I empty inside her, my heart hammering so hard I feel like I've just run a marathon. My dick pulses, surrounded by her heat until I exhausted and blissful. Bella giggles, wiping my sweaty hair off my forehead.

"What's so funny?" I ask, trying to regain control of my breathing. I lift up again, looking down at her.

"You, sir, have a potty mouth."

"Shit. What was I saying?"

She giggles again, leaning up for a kiss.

"I don't mind at all. It was hot."

"It was . . . fucking hot."

"Really hot."

Apparently, neither of us is at our most articulate.

I smile and shake my head, rolling off her and wincing a bit as my dick slips out of her warmth. Bella snuggles up against my side, running her fingers lightly over my chest. I feel really fucking good and tired. It's only a little after ten, but my brain is already shutting down into post-coital sleep mode. I should probably get something to clean up with. Sadly, I can't seem to get my limbs to operate.

"Umm," she says finally, "I'll be right back."

She slides off the bed, disappearing to the bathroom, and I'm left missing her warmth. When she returns a few minutes later, she has a towel for me, which I half-heartedly use to wipe my junk. Honestly, I couldn't care less—I just want her back beside me. And when she snuggles into my side, I feel myself drifting off.

"Hey, Edward?"

"Hmmmm?"

"Do you mind if I stay over?"

"I'll mind if you leave."

"Okay. Good." She sighs contentedly, pulling the sheet up over us as I switch off the light. I wrap my arms around her, the male part of my brain that's still operational noting her boobs are pressed up against me. Five years ago I would have been up for another round in another few minutes. But now I need at least an hour. Good thing she's sleeping over.

"Edward?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for listening before . . . about my dad. I really appreciate that." The way she says the words . . . so sincerely – it does that weird girly thing to me. Fuck.

"Anytime," I reply gruffly, thankful for the darkness.

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**A/N: Yes, ffn is STILL fail (grumble), but I'm getting your reviews. Please leave one! I'm thinking of making a list of recs of all of your favorite beers, so if you have one please let me know.**

**Thanks so much to all those that voted in the Inspired Awards! Strange Brew won for best UST under 1000 reviews! I was very excited about this, and so was Beerward. ;) xox **


	18. When & Hits the Fan

**A/N: SM owns it all. I own nothing, not the Smurfs, not the Tranformers, nothing.**

**Thanks and praise to Mac214 for being a badass beta. Love you woman! **

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**"_Always do sober what you said you'd do drunk. That will teach you to keep your mouth shut._" -Ernest Hemingway**

**Chapter 18: When &^# Hits the Fan**

"Are . . . don't . . . Smurfs?" Bella calls from the living room. I laugh and shake my head, barely able to hear over the din of the stove's ventilation hood.

I scrape my spatula along the pan, dislodging the charred bits and scooping them out into the trash before pouring in another ladle of batter. I already burned my first pancake, so I'm concentrating hard on not fucking up the second one. When the little bubbles start to rise and the edges look firm, I flip. Golden brown and perfect. Take that, Martha Stewart.

Bella calls out again, and I shake my head—she's just like Emmett. He can carry on an entirely one-sided conversation from the other room, not even aware the other person can't hear.

"I can't hear you!" I shout over my shoulder, chuckling before returning to the task at hand. One pancake down, five to go.

A couple seconds later, Bella's warm hands slide up under my t-shirt as she presses her body into me. "I _said _what self-respecting kid from the 80's doesn't like the Smurfs?"

Earlier in bed, after round . . . three? Maybe four? Bella and I had engaged in a heated debate over our favorite childhood cartoons. I was suitably impressed by her knowledge of, as she termed it, 'old school' animation, but we vehemently disagreed over the reigning champion. For Bella, it was _The Smurfs_. For me, it was the _Transformers_. Of course I was right. She just couldn't see it.

"You don't really want to start this again, do you?" I joke, flipping the next pancake and willing myself not to be distracted by the feel of her hands. Thinking about Bella and sex is the reason the first damn pancake turned out so . . . blackened.

"But don't you see that_ Transformers_ is a boy cartoon? _The Smurfs_ was gender neutral—and by that virtue alone should be designated superior." Bella kisses my shoulder, and I turn my head for another one. She smiles and rests her head against me as I pour more batter in the pan.

All the while I'm thinking of a way to counter her argument. "Gender neutral? How do you figure? There's only one girl in it."

"That's true. But Smurfette is a very powerful female role model."

"I strongly disagree. She drove all the male Smurfs crazy. She was a spy sent by Gargamel to destroy the peace and tranquility of the village."

"But she came around."

"Yeah, because Papa Smurf undid Gargamel's spell. So either way, she's under male control."

Bella huffs and releases me, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes while she leans against the counter.

"You always have an answer for everything, don't you, Edmund?"

I can barely respond to her teasing because she's not wearing a bra, and the way her arms cross under her tits make them press against the white t-shirt, leaving little to the imagination. Her nipples pucker up against the thin material, and I remember how Bella woke me in the morning, her hand stroking my cock. I was barely awake when she climbed on top of me and started fucking my brains out, her tits bouncing up and down. Maybe the best wakeup I've ever had.

"Edward?" Bella says, her eyes widening and darting to the pan on the stove. The smell of burnt batter fills the air, and I curse, quickly removing it from the flame and trying to do damage control. Too late. Somewhere the ghost of Julia Childs is laughing at me.

"Pancakes don't seem to be your forte. Maybe you should stick to soup."

"You're distracting me," I growl, scraping failure number two into the trash as she giggles beside me.

"Hmm . . . that was the plan." She's not laughing anymore, her eyes dark and devilish.

"Oh, you really shouldn't have said that."

This time, there's barely a preamble. In a flash I have her pressed against the counter, my tongue in her mouth as she kisses me back eagerly.

"The stove," she pants between kisses. Shit, the burner's still on. I shut it off and turn around, but Bella's already a couple feet away, smiling widely.

"If you want me, you'll have to catch me."

"You better run," I say, stalking toward her. She squeals and turns to flee, and my eyes focus on her ass, just barely concealed by her t-shirt and panties. It jiggles as she runs and fuck if it doesn't make me hard. Some girls are weird about that kind of stuff, but I like that she's soft in all the right places. Enjoying the view, I stride after her, each of my steps covering the distance of two of hers.

Bella turns her head just as she rounds the corner to the living room, her foot catching on the edge of the carpet. Luckily, I'm just behind so I reach out and grab her around the waist before she falls. She yelps in surprise as I draw her back up against me.

"You better watch your step," I murmur, kissing her shoulder. She leans her head back and wraps her arms around my neck.

"Good thing you're fast."

I run my hands down her shirt, toying with the edges for a second before pulling it over her head. We're a tangle of limbs, touching and kissing, as I try to guide us toward the couch. Once the backs of her legs hit the arm, Bella surprises me by turning around and bending over, bracing herself with her ass in the air. My eyes widen at the sight . . . so fucking hot.

"You want it like this?" I ask, making quick work of my shorts and stroking myself a couple of times. Bella looks back at me, giving a nod and an open-mouthed smile, her eyes glancing to where I'm touching myself.

I pull her panties down and off her legs, feeling her pussy to ensure she's ready. She moans as my fingers move over her wetness, becoming louder as I plunge my cock inside. Christ, it's so fucking tight like this. She clenches around me, and I can't stop pushing inside her, nearly lifting her legs off the floor as she cries out in pleasure. Our fucking is quick and frantic, and I can't take my eyes off the place where we're joined, my dick appearing and disappearing, slick with her wetness. I palm her ass, squeezing tightly as I up my pace. This won't last long.

Bella arches her back and I lean forward for a kiss, wanting her to know that even taking her like this . . . she's so precious to me.

"Baby," I whisper hoarsely. "I'm so close . . . can you?"

She murmurs and moves her hand down between her legs, touching herself. Fuck, I love that. I love that she's not too shy to do it. I can feel her hand slide against my dick, and the sight and sensation is too much . . .

Fuck. Too fucking late. My hips jerk forward in short fast thrusts as my cock pulses . . . I see stars. Literally. Even as my orgasm wanes I stay inside, because the way Bella is moaning and writhing and working her hand it looks like she's pretty close too.

"Don't pull out," she whispers. "Oh. God." And then she's there, coming with a quiet moan . . . and it's incredible. I can feel her muscles flutter around my softening, sensitive cock. She's so beautiful when she finally relaxes, spent and smiling. I gather her to me and kiss her, settling down on the couch with her in my arms.

"Well. I'm sure the pancakes are cold."

"It was worth it," she replies, snuggling into my side.

Only then do I realize what's on the TV, and I roll my eyes. The fucking Smurfs.

We spend the rest of the day watching stupid movies. I don't want her to go home, and I don't think she does either, so neither of us mentions it. We don't talk about Charlie anymore, but I still want to pay for her ticket to Forks. I'm trying to think of how to broach the subject again when my phone buzzes.

"Hey, Em," I say, trying to be quiet since Bella's dozing lightly with her head in my lap.

"Dude, you busy?"

"Ummm . . . kinda. Why, what's up?"

"I'm just going through some receipts down here at the pub, and there seem to be some inconsistencies."

"What do you mean?" It's not uncommon for the books to be a little off once and a while, but the tone of Emmett's voice makes me nervous.

He sighs, and I can tell he's frustrated. "I don't know. I'm checking our bank statements, and the last few months' deposits have been a lot less than ever before. I'm talking thousands, Edward. But as far as I can tell, business has been great, at least in the times I've been in . . . and the close-out reports just aren't adding up."

"Shit."

Jasper and Liam are in charge of adding up the cash and closing out at the end of the night, but other employees have access to the office at times . . . shit. I really hope this doesn't mean someone's stealing from me. It happened once before; years ago when we first opened I caught a line cook pocketing petty cash. Since then, I'd had security cameras installed without the staff's knowledge. Perhaps it was a little underhanded, but I never looked at the tapes.

"Yeah. You can say that again."

"Have you talked to Jazz or Liam?"

"Not yet, but I will. Fuck."

"Maybe we should look at the tapes first," I suggest, scrubbing my hand through my hair. God forbid one of them had something to do with it . . . Jasper would never steal from the pub, and Christ, I've known Liam for ten years. He'd never do that shit. But still, something tells me to be cautious.

"You're probably right. Okay. Listen. I'm gonna call the bank on Monday, but I'll start looking through the tapes today. We'll get to the bottom of this."

"Okay. Thanks, man."

"Fucking great weekend, right?" Emmett scoffs.

I look down at Bella, still out like a light. I know I should probably go down to the pub to help Emmett, but I can't bring myself to suggest it.

"Hmm. Yeah."

"You're with Bella now, aren't you." It's a statement, not a question.

"Yes."

"Good for you, dude. All right, well, go enjoy yourself. I'll keep you updated. And tell B I say 'hi'."

"Sounds good."

He grunts and hangs up, and I flip my phone shut, grateful he's spared me coming in today. But shit . . . thousands of dollars? I don't want to jump to conclusions before we know the whole story, but the past few months have increased my paranoia. Coupled with the Victoria visit yesterday, this whole thing has me on edge. My mind races through possibilities of who it could be . . . none of the choices are good ones. Melanie? The new bus boy? Fuck.

Bella shifts in her sleep, making cute little sleep sounds, and I pull up the light blanket that's covering her. We didn't get much sleep last night, so even though I'd like to wake her, I figure letting her sleep is nicer. She deserves it. And she's adorable with her eyes closed and her mouth hanging open. I smile a little despite myself, running my hand gently over her covered arm. The movie I'm not really watching ends and another equally stupid comedy begins, but I can't relax.

A few minutes later, my phone buzzes again. I immediately snatch it up thinking it's Emmett with more news about the missing money, surprised to see it's Jenks. Fucker probably finally got my message.

"Hello?" I say, trying not to speak to loudly.

"Edward? This is Jason."

"Hey. Yeah."

"Ruth told me you called . . . said it was urgent. I was flying and got in pretty late. What's going on?"

"Can you hang on a second?"

He acknowledges my request, and I try to slip out from underneath Bella without waking her up. She murmurs in sleepy protest before settling back down on a pillow I slide under her head.

Once I'm free, I take the phone down to my room, pacing when I realize I can't sit still. For some reason I'm nervous.

"Victoria came to the brewery yesterday."

"What?" he asks in disbelief, the alarm in his voice apparent.

"Yeah. She just showed up without warning. That's why I tried to call you."

"You didn't talk to her, did you?"

I can tell he already knows I did . . . his alarm has faded to resignation.

"I had no choice. It was either that or have her make a scene in front of my . . . employees."

"Tell me everything that was said. Start at the beginning."

I tell him what I remember of the conversation, but his alarm returns when I get to the part about her wanting me back.

"She _what_?"

"I don't know . . . she acted like she wanted to try and make it work."

"And do you think she's serious?"

"I don't know. At first I did. But then I thought maybe she was up to something. She asked me if I was seeing anyone."

Jenks chuckles dismissively at the end of the line. "Oh, just sounds like she's grasping at straws. I wouldn't worry about it."

I stop pacing, trying to think of something to say . . . when I don't respond, his laughter dies down.

"Edward? _Are_ you seeing someone?"

I clear my throat, glancing toward the partially closed door down the hall. Bella's arm hangs off the side of the couch . . . she must still be sleeping.

"Sorta."

When he speaks again, his tone is dead serious. "What does that mean, Edward? This is a yes or no kind of question."

And so I tell him—about meeting Bella, about her position as my employee, our decision to see each other secretly. When I finish, he exhales gustily.

"Why didn't you tell me this before? Jesus."

"I don't know," I mutter, feeling like a guilty teenager getting caught by his dad.

"I'll be frank. From my perspective this doesn't look good. I would have advised you, should you have asked, to avoid dating until the divorce is final. Even though you're separated and free to date if you choose, this is a special case. Victoria and Aro are looking for any loophole to help her get what she wants—which in this case is half your livelihood."

I sigh, frustrated and angry with myself, with the entire fucking situation.

"Each divorce is unique," Jenks continues. "Sometimes separated partners amicably agree to date other people, and it's a non-issue. In this case, however, I wouldn't be surprised if Victoria was at the brewery fishing for information to use against you. In fact, knowing your history, I'm certain of it. Is there any way she could know about you and Bella?"

"I don't think so . . . no one knows except Emmett, and I trust him to keep his mouth shut."

"That may well be . . . I hope it is. But her trying to reconcile with you . . . even just suggesting it to be shot down . . . they might mention that in court, too. If they decide to try and play infidelity angle, the judge is much more likely to look favorably upon Victoria's case."

"Shit." Here I am, playing right into Victoria's hands, basically ensuring she gets half my assets. I pull my hair and groan.

"The fact that you've kept it a secret—and then lied—doesn't bode well. If it's discovered, she could try and make it appear you were seeing Bella before the separation. It could affect the settlement."

"Shit," I say again.

"I'll say."

"So what do I do?"

"Well, we can hope she doesn't know anything. Have you heard from her since yesterday?"

"No."

"My advice to you is to stop seeing this girl, at least until we go to court. It's only three weeks. Then, after that, you can do whatever you want."

"And if I don't?" I think of Bella sleeping so soundly on the couch. After our night together, and our day, how can I even think about telling her we have to stop? It's ludicrous and cruel, and I fucking hate it.

"If you don't, and they ask you on the witness stand whether you're seeing someone, you risk perjuring yourself. Victoria will try to paint you as a neglectful, emotionally abusive husband who may or may not have been having an affair while you were married . . ."

"I would never have—"

"Yes, I know that. But the judge doesn't. It's your word against hers."

"Fuck. What am I supposed to say to Bella?"

"I'm not a relationship expert, Edward. Tell her the truth. Obviously, you knew that dating in your situation wasn't a good idea or else you wouldn't have tried to keep it a secret this long. But ultimately it's your choice. As your lawyer, it's my job to ensure you get the best possible divorce settlement. This could seriously impair your chances. The choice is yours."

It's not like Jenks is telling me something I didn't know before – not really. But in the last couple of weeks I've deluded myself into thinking it's all right if we keep it a secret . . . but there have been too many close calls. We've been seen in public together on many occasions, not to mention how often she's been coming to my house. And yesterday at the brewery . . . the way Victoria looked at her.

I stay silent, looking for something to kick . . . hard. Jenks sighs, and when he speaks, it's with a softer tone.

"You really like this girl?"

"Yeah, I like her—a whole helluva lot."

"Listen, I've been friends with your father for a long time. I don't mean to seem harsh. But remember, it's only a matter of weeks before this is all behind you. Let's not do anything to compromise the case."

Yeah, too late for that. I've already fucked myself over . . . because either way I'm miserable. If I keep my relationship with Bella secret and Victoria finds out, I can kiss half my paycheck goodbye and God knows what else. But I can't even go a few days without missing Bella . . . and she might have to move back to Forks to be with her dad. Fuck, this might be the only time I can spend with her. What if her father's operation doesn't go well?

A sound from behind startles me, and I jerk around to find Bella standing tentatively in the doorway, her hand on the frame. Her eyes look wide and sad; I'm sure she's heard part of the conversation.

"Jason, I've gotta get going. I'll call you back," I say, unable to look away from her. She turns her face toward the floor, toeing the rug and avoiding my gaze.

"Okay . . . Edward?" he adds just before I hang up.

"Yeah?"

"Next time, for god's sake, tell me what's going on."

"Got it."

I toss my phone on the bed and sigh, feeling my shoulders sag with the weight of this entire situation.

"Bella . . ." I sigh, advancing towards her. She backs up toward the door with wide eyes.

"What's going on, Edward? Who was that?"

"It was my lawyer," I say hesitantly. "I told him about us . . . he doesn't think . . . fuck."

"I knew this wasn't a good idea," she says forlornly, digging her toe into the rug again.

"He seems to think Victoria's going to try to peg me as some sort of abusive, cheating bastard . . . he says we should stop seeing each other, even in private."

"Oh."

"Oh?"

I move toward her and lift her chin to look at me, horrified to see her shimmering brown eyes. The last twenty-four hours have changed something between us . . . it kills me to see her hurting. And damn, it hurts me too . . . the idea of staying away from her now.

"Don't cry," I whisper as an errant tear strays down her cheek. I wipe it away and tuck her to my chest. Her arms wrap around my waist, and I just want to keep her here, Victoria be damned.

"It's okay . . . I knew . . . I told you not to risk anything for me. It's not worth it."

"Hey!" I say, pulling away from her again. "You sure know how to make a guy feel like shit. It's worth it to me . . . I'm so fucking glad I met you, Bella."

Her eyes latch onto my face, and I notice her lower lip quivering . . . I move to kiss her softly, hoping she doesn't pull away. She doesn't. We stand there, just kissing and hugging. I run my hands over her back and through her hair and wonder how I'm supposed to stay away from her for three weeks. Or worse . . . what if . . . I can't even think about it.

"He's right, though, your lawyer," she says, finally breaking the kiss. "I understand."

"I don't. I don't understand how I could ever have . . . God. I hate having gotten you involved in all this. Hiding you like you're some shameful secret . . . it's fucked up."

"Edward—"

"Don't try to say it's not, because it is. I hate it. You know I don't think that, don't you?"

Bella is quiet for a minute, looking at me earnestly . . . shit, she doesn't think that, does she? I mean, I used to feel weird about it, but so much has changed, so quickly.

"So . . . after the court date . . . you want . . . will we . . ." Her eyes dart around the room as she trips over her words . . . and I know this is it. I need to tell her that, at least for me, there's a future in this. In us, if she wants it.

"After the fucking court date I'll tell everyone within a ten mile radius; people will be so sick of me talking about you . . ."

"What will you say?" she asks quietly.

"To who?" I ask, getting caught off guard.

"When you talk about me?"

"What will you want me to say?"

"Ummm . . ." she trails off, blushing. "What would you want to say?"

"I'd want to say that you're my girlfriend. But I know you're funny about all of that patriarchal nomenclature, so—"

"No," she says cutting me off with a wide smile. "I'd like that."

I smile back, and when her face lights up, everything—thoughts of her moving home, thoughts of Victoria—that all vanishes.

"Really?"

"Really. So much."

When I kiss her again, I feel her smile against my lips.

And when she leaves, just an hour later, I feel like absolute hell. How did this day go from burning pancakes and fucking in the living room to one of the worst I can remember?

I grab a beer from the fridge and down half of it in one gulp. Emmett still hasn't called, and I consider giving him a ring to check in, but I can't really deal with any more bullshit right now.

All I can think of is Bella's face when she said goodbye—like she thought it was forever. Even after what I said. It's weird . . .thinking about having a girlfriend. I know I shouldn't want it, that I should be completely gun-shy about relationships. Maybe there's something wrong with me. I'm probably co-dependant. My father suggested as much when I was nine and wouldn't leave for camp without my stuffed Brontosaurus Monty. He lectured me for about a half hour about the dangers of bed bug infestation that might contaminate him because "God knows what kinds of microbes thrive in communal camp bunks."

I'll never forget the reproving look he gave my mother as she stuffed it into my suitcase anyway.

_You'll ruin him, Esme, ruin him. _

_Oh, hush. Go take out the garbage, Carlisle. _

I take another swig of beer and go outside, feeling the cool sand beneath my toes as I walk toward the water. It's warmer now in the evening, warm enough to go swimming at night. Skinny-dipping. Alone with Bella. Fuck, I hope that happens.

I feel horrible leaving her alone like this while her father's operation is pending—of course, neither of us had addressed_ that _elephant in the room. As much as I don't want her to go, I know Bella needs to be with her dad when he goes under the knife, but there's no way she'll accept a ticket from me. There has to be some way . . .

Suddenly, I have an idea. I pick up my phone and dial the number I have never dialed, that Jasper insisted I take 'for emergencies'.

"Hello? Cullen? What do you want?"

"Good to talk to you too, Alice," I reply, rolling my eyes at the night.

"So, what's going on? Has hell frozen over?"

"Actually, I need a favor . . ."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! I appreciate each and every one of your reviews, so leave one. And don't fear. We're not getting too angsty with this one. Just hang in there.  
**


	19. Devil's Brew

**A/N: And Mac214 is my super-awesome beta. You can also thank her for the catheter line: see below. ;-p**

* * *

"_**All you need is love."—****The Beatles**_

_**"And Beer."-Me  
**_

_**Chapter 19: Devil's Brew**_

When I pull up on Monday, Bella's car is already parked at the brewery. _Blanche_. I chuckle and clamber out of my truck, my footsteps quickening as I make my way to the door. It's only been a day, but I've missed her so much—hopefully the remaining three weeks doesn't drag the way Sunday did.

I enter through the tasting room, and my eyes immediately latch onto Bella, who gives me a half-hearted smile and wave. She looks a little tired, I notice, but beautiful as always. There's nothing I want more than to hug her; according to Alice, Bella's been extremely upset about her dad. I only hope my plan succeeds.

"Hi." The tone of her voice is almost shy.

"Hey," I reply, glancing around to see whether we're alone.

We'd decided to keep things strictly professional over the next few weeks to avoid temptation . . . Lord knows it wouldn't take much for me to completely disregard Jenks' advice. I know he's only looking out for me, but I want to so badly. The only thing that gives me comfort is the fact that Bella wants to be my girlfriend . . . she pretty much is my girlfriend. My adorable, secret, soon-to-be girlfriend.

I'm an idiot.

"How are you?" I ask, approaching the bar tentatively.

"I'm okay. You?"

I shrug, running my hand lightly over the mahogany veneer, wishing I could touch her.

"It's going to be all right, Edward," she whispers. I meet her dark eyes, grasping at the strength I see there. Despite her carefree attitude and silly sense of humor, she's probably more mature than I am. My fingers move surreptitiously toward hers, but she draws her hand away just before we touch. I answer her rueful smile with one of my own.

"You better go. Emmett's in the office. He seems upset about something."

I sigh and nod, wishing I could tell her more, but things have to stay under wraps for now until we've sorted out this mess down at the pub. So far, Emmett hasn't had any luck determining the culprit, but since this has been going on for months and there's tons of surveillance footage, it's only a matter of time until we come across something. Hopefully.

We spend the morning fast forwarding through footage on his laptop; it's slow going and frustrating since both of us know there's a possibility we won't find anything on the footage to indicate wrongdoing. And if there is, and our suspicions are confirmed, all hell will break loose. More and more, it seems the only likely possibilities are Jasper or Liam since they're the ones in charge of the paperwork and the bank deposits.

And both of those options . . . fuck. I hope to God it's not Jasper. I've known him for over ten years; he's as much a brother to me as Emmett. All that history tells me it can't be him. But why would Liam steal from us? We pay him a whole helluva lot more than most restaurant managers are paid, plus healthcare benefits. He'd have to be pretty desperate—or stupid—to fuck that shit up. When I mention it, Emmett seems to agree.

"Do you think he's into drugs or something? Gambling?" Emmett asks before taking a bit of his General Tso's. We're tossing around possible motives, other than greed, while eating shitty Chinese food. The feed on the computer is more of the same—Liam, and occasionally Jasper, going in and out but nothing obviously strange.

"I don't know. Is there any gambling around here?"

"Verf's a cafino in Maffatufetts," Emmett offers, along with an eyeful of partially masticated chicken. I grimace and turn my head.

"Yeah. I doubt it. And fuck, the only drugs up here are hippie drugs."

"Pot's getting more expensive these days."

"How do you know?" I ask, rolling my eyes. My brother's never been one for drug use, even in college. He completely bought into our father's grave warning that marijuana stunts testicular growth. Coupled with forced viewings of dad's favorite "educational videos" from the 1950's, which illustrated how pot turns average teenagers into hallucinating lunatics, it seemed to do the trick.

"I have my finger on the pulse of American youth."

"You've been watching _Drug Wars_ again, haven't you?"

He smiles and shrugs. "Maybe."

"Well, fuck . . . this feels like a waste of time." I say, turning my eyes back to the video.

"It kind of does."

"Maybe we should just call Jasper and Liam in here, question them about it?"

"Hmm . . . I don't know . . . we haven't looked through it all yet."

"I don't even know why we installed those stupid cameras," I mutter despondently. "It's not like someone's gonna hold up a big sign saying 'I'm the asshole that's stealing'."

Emmett flicks a piece of steamed broccoli at me. Real mature.

"Dude, you don't have to do this. I will, okay? And once I've watched it all we'll decide what to do. Maybe one of us should be down at the pub to do the closing, though, until we figure it out."

"I'll do that if you're doing this."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. It's not like I have any evening plans anyway. I might as well put my free time to good use."

Emmett sighs and gives me a sympathetic smile. I've already told him about the Victoria/Jenks fiasco.

A tentative knock interrupts our conversation. Emmett immediately closes his laptop and both of us swivel around in our chairs, probably looking like twin idiots.

"Um, guys?" Bella's soft voice calls through the cracked door before she pokes her head in.

"What's up, B?" Emmett asks with a smile. "Come on in."

"I'm not interrupting, am I?"

"Nah, we're just shooting the shit."

"Oh, okay." She fidgets a little, looking nervous, which in turn makes me anxious. The only one who's not aware of the tension is Emmett. He lets out a dramatic belch which makes Bella giggle.

"You're disgusting," I mutter.

"Come on, Ed. Bella, you don't even want to know what this guy does when you're not around."

"Really?" Bella asks, arching her eyebrow.

"Don't listen to him. He was dropped on his head as a child."

Emmett snorts. "Yeah, by you."

Bella laughs, and the sound is like magic, instantly relaxing me. Just watching her face light up is like my own personal brand of Prozac.

But she soon grows serious again, and I remember there was a reason she came in here. I suddenly have a feeling I know what it is.

"So," I begin, "what's going on?"

"Well," she says, speaking to Emmett more than me. "I just talked to Alice. Um . . . she and Rosalie bought me a ticket to go home to Forks next week for my dad's operation. But I have to work . . . I told her it might not be possible. But I guess the ticket is nonrefundable. So . . ."

"So you're asking if you can have off?"

"Yeah. If you can't find someone, I totally understand. I can pay Alice and Rose back and—"

It's almost unbearable watching her ramble; she so obviously wants to see her dad. Even if I hadn't planned this whole thing myself, I'd still want her to go. Not that I _want _her to go. I just want her to be happy, and she needs to be there for the operation.

When I spoke to Alice about buying Bella a ticket to Forks, she'd been immediately wary of my motivations. To get her to trust me, I had to come clean about our whole relationship, which she insisted she suspected all along. I laid it out on the table; Bella would never accept the ticket from me, and given our position it probably wasn't advisable to give it to her directly. I also didn't want her to think I was trying to get her out of the picture or something. Even though I didn't believe she would ever think that, given the circumstances it might appear that way.

So the plan was for me to give Alice a check in 'payment' for her help at the bar, which she would then use for Bella's ticket, purchasing it beforehand so she'd have no chance to turn the offer down. Alice was surprisingly supportive. Despite my history of congenial animosity with her, she loved Bella and would keep our secret. Her final words to me confirmed this.

"_You know what, Edward? You're much less of a douche than I thought."_

Coming from Alice, that was high praise.

"— I could find someone to train and take my place."

She's breathless, waiting for a response.

"When do you leave?" I ask, though I already know.

"Friday."

"And how long will you be gone?"

"A little over a week. Charlie's operation is next Tuesday, and if all goes well, I'll be back that Saturday."

If all goes well. Her words hang ominously in the air . . . there's that chance it won't go well, that Charlie will be worse, not better.

I can only hope to God that doesn't happen, for his and Bella's sake as well as mine.

"Okay. Well, we can put Seth behind the bar."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. You need to be there for your dad," I reply gruffly, clenching the arms of my chair to keep from reaching out to her.

"Thanks, Edward," Bella's eyes fill with emotion as they meet mine and linger for far too long for polite company. Good thing we're with Emmett. He clears his throat and turns away, fiddling with papers on his desk, either embarrassed by our intimacy or trying to give us privacy.

"It's no big deal."

"Thanks," she says again, before turning away. I watch her exit and pull the door closed softly behind her, leaving the two of us

"You two are too much." Emmett laughs. "You'd think it was three years and not three weeks."

"Shut up."

"Ah, to be young and in love," he jokes.

_What? _

I don't answer him because I'm too busy staring at the floor in wide-eyed alarm. Any casual observer might think I've just gone catatonic; I can't even blink. My mind races as I try to make sense of his statement. He was just joking. Right? I can't possibly be in love with Bella because I just met her . . .

_Three months ago._

I couldn't possibly be in love with Bella because we're just keeping things casual . . .

_Not anymore. _

There's no way I'm in love with her because she's leaving in a few days, and she might never come back . . . and even if she does, there's still her plans for vet school. Plans that don't include me.

_And the thought of that makes me sick._

Pound. Pound. Pound. My heart feels like it might burst out of my chest at any minute, making me feel breathless and completely like a girl.

What if she doesn't love me? That would suck. Shit, wondering that pretty much confirms that I love her, or else why would it make me upset?

I'm such a pussy I have half a mind to palm my dick and confirm it's been replaced by a vagina. I might as well go shopping with Rose and Alice this weekend and buy a nice dress for myself.

"Bro?" Emmett's voice invades my insane internal ramblings; he sounds alarmed. I've clearly passed the threshold of the amount of minutes you can sit staring into space without people noticing.

"Yeah?" I rasp hoarsely.

"You okay?"

"Uh . . ."

I glance out the window toward Bella and my throat constricts . . . she's standing with a group of customers, hands on hips, just that little peek of flesh from under her knotted tee. Yeah, I still want to bend her over the bar and fuck her until she can't walk straight . . . but I also want to comfort her and watch stupid TV with her. I want to go camping with her and sleep in the same sleeping bag, listen to her stories about being mauled by killer attack goats. I hate thinking about her hurting, but I want her to be happy, even if it hurts me. Even if I have to let her go.

"You don't look good."

"Yeah . . . um. I think maybe the chicken was bad."

"Crap." He looks at it suspiciously, pushing the Styrofoam container away. "Do you want me to call Dad? See what he thinks?"

"No. No, no," I say, rising up out of my chair and heading toward the door. The last thing I need is to have my father send an unnecessary ambulance to hospitalize me for salmonella. He did that once in college when I was hung-over and couldn't make it to Sunday dinner. He personally came in and had the nurses put a catheter in my dick; I'd never heard of that treatment for food poisoning or a hangover, and if I didn't know he was the world's biggest hypochondriac, I'd have thought he was torturing me.

"Are you sure? I—"

"I just need some fresh air."

When I walk past the bar, Bella's eyes widen in alarm. I guess I don't look so great. I need a walk to think about what this means . . .

The humid afternoon air makes my shirt stick to my body; still, it's a nice change from the claustrophobic atmosphere of the office. My heartbeat evens out to a stable, steady rhythm as I wind my way down the trail in the back of the brewery—one of my favorite walks.

Soon I feel much less panicked, but with each stride I take I'm aware I'm moving farther away from Bella. And when I finally turn around, I feel her presence pulling me back.

I'm still at a loss for what to do, but I know one thing.

I love Bella Swan.

**/S8B\\\**

The rest of the week passes quickly, which is good in a way since I don't get to be with Bella . . . but it also means Thursday, her last day at work, comes too soon. My realization has proven similarly disconcerting, making the situation more bearable and worse. Bearable because I'm fucking happy . . . worse because I'm miserable.

I try not to feel too edgy about Victoria's cryptic words—_I'll be in touch_. It's a relief she hasn't tried to contact me since then, but it makes me nervous to think about what she's up to. Another part of me doesn't fucking care.

So, for all intents and purposes, I've completely lost my mind.

I spend a lot of time down at the pub watching over things and trying not to be too obvious about my oversight. And then, when I go home, I think about Bella and beer. Bella Brown. The name has a ring to it . . . customers would like it . . . and the color. Her eyes would make the perfect beer. _Malt _the color of her eyes would make the perfect beer, that is. I imagine mixing a nice deep chocolate roast with a lighter, amber grain to even out the body. Not too hoppy because Bella doesn't like bitterness. Sweet, but not too sweet. Maybe just a touch of brown sugar.

We name a lot of our beers after animals. I think it's about time one was inspired by a person.

Late on Thursday afternoon, I'm sitting and doodling absentmindedly on a pad of paper, looking out of the office window. Emmett's out for the day, and I watch as Bella closes up the tasting room. She stacks clean glasses on the shelf behind the bar, moving with ease and confidence as she straightens out the stools around the high tops.

She belongs here.

As is so often the case with Bella, before I know what I'm doing, I'm heading for the tasting room.

"Bella?"

She whirls around, her face flushing when she notices my presence.

"Hey. I was just cleaning up."

"You don't have to worry about all that," I say, gesturing to the rag and cleaner in her hands. "I can have Seth do it in the morning."

She glances down and bites the inside of her cheek. "I really don't mind . . ."

It's then I realize she's stalling—she doesn't want to leave either. And then we're standing like two strangers, surrounded by the distance between us that's grown up over the last few days. I hate it.

"Can you . . . come help me with something for a second?" I ask her. She nods and tentatively sets down her supplies, following me out toward the dry storage room. No one is around, and I can hear her footfalls echo down the hall behind me. I don't care if this isn't a good idea—I need to see her alone before she leaves.

Once we arrive, I push open the door and usher her inside, glancing once more down the hall before entering and latching the door behind us.

"Edward, I—"

I silence her protest with a kiss, hungry and desperate for her in a way I've never been. Her initial stiffness instantly fades, and she wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me closer with a moan. Our tongues slide wetly together, and my cock grows hard against her stomach . . . I could fuck her right here, right now, and no one would know. The door's locked and . . .

No. That's not what this is about.

But I can't seem to stop kissing her, running my hands over her clothes and wishing she were naked. It hasn't even been a week, but it feels like forever since I've touched her. Bella runs her fingers through my hair, leaning her head back so I can reach her neck and the small swath of exposed skin at her collarbone. She sighs and presses her pelvis into mine, and I groan at the pressure on my dick, which by now is rock hard.

"I miss you," I mumble against her hairline, trying to regain control. Dry humping in dry storage is probably on Jenks' list of no-no behaviors.

"I miss you too." Her words are breathy and colored with lust, but her eyes are sad.

"Are you all set for your flight tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Mike's driving me to the airport."

"Okay, good," I say, even though I want to take her to the airport. She murmurs something and kisses the side of my face again. I run my hands up her sides and around her back, unable to resist her parted mouth. I finally break away when I realize we've been in here far too long.

"It won't be the same without you."

"I know . . . I wish . . ."

"It's just a week," I say, saving her from articulating the fear we both share—that it will be much longer.

"Just a week," she repeats, testing it out. Smiling a little more.

"Do you think I . . . can call you?"

"Yes. Please. I've missed . . . talking to you."

I hug her again, rubbing my cheek against her soft hair. "There's no reason we can't talk on the phone."

"Or text."

"Or text."

"Or sext."

"Sext?"

"Yeah . . . haven't you ever sexted anyone before?" she teases, kneading my shoulders gently.

"Haven't had the pleasure. What exactly is entailed?"

She grins deviously and shrugs.

"Are you going to send me naked pictures of yourself?"

"Maybe."

"Send me dirty messages?"

"That's the idea."

"Well, then I'm a fan of sexting."

"But you have to reciprocate." Her hand travels down my torso to my cock, giving it a squeeze through my pants. All of this talk about dirty pictures and messages isn't doing much to help calm me down.

"I think something can be arranged," I manage, reluctantly drawing her hand away.

She sighs, leaning into my chest as I wrap my arms around her. I want to tell her I love her so fucking bad, but I'm such a chicken shit. What if she doesn't feel the same way and then she leaves? The way she's holding me now, I feel like maybe . . . just maybe . . . she does.

"Bella," I whisper, looking down at the top of her head.

"Hmm?"

"I . . ."

She turns her face upward and, looking into her wide eyes, I panic.

"I . . . hope you have a good trip."

"Thanks," she says with a smile. I'm equal parts relieved and pissed at myself for being such a coward.

"Hurry back to me."

"I will. I promise."

**/S8B\\\**

The next few days are long as hell . . . Bella is so busy with her father, I don't hear from her except for a call to tell me of her arrival.

For better or worse, there's no sexting. Instead, I jerk off in the shower, remembering how Bella's pussy felt around my dick. But now that I've had the real thing, my hand is a poor, poor substitute.

Monday morning is rainy, but despite that, I wake up at the crack of dawn and go on a long run. By the time I return home, my clothes and sneakers are soaked through, but the endorphins have improved my mood—marginally.

My phone blinks on the counter, indicating a message.

_**Hey.**_

It's from Bella. I check my watch and notice it's only 8:30 here, which means it's 5:30 where she is. She must not be able to sleep.

_**What's wrong? Is everything okay? **_

Her reply is almost instantaneous.

_**Charlie's being admitted this afternoon for tests before the surgery.**_

_**But that's standard procedure, right? **_I hate the idea of her having to be there on her own; fucking bad timing all around.

_**Yes. I'm just worried and I couldn't sleep.**_

_**Oh, baby. **_

_**I miss you. **_

_**I miss you.**_

_**I miss waking up with you. **_

_**I miss that too.**_

Her next message almost kills me. _**I wish you were here.**_

_**I wish I could be.**_

She doesn't reply to that one, and I quickly punch out another.

_**Call me if anything happens, if you need to talk. Anytime. Okay?**_

_**Okay. **_

Saying I love you for the first time by text-message probably isn't the most romantic gesture, but at this moment I'm strongly tempted. Still, something holds me back—maybe it's self-preservation. I don't know.

I stand with my phone in my hand in my empty kitchen, in my empty house.

Victoria can have the whole damn lot of it. It doesn't fucking matter—all the money, all the material bullshit. Half my check, whatever. I don't want any of it. As long as the brewery is safe, the rest she can take. There's no fucking need to hide my relationship with Bella because no matter what I do, Victoria can lie and probably will. I just have to hope that the judge can see through her bullshit.

I dial Jenks' number, but he doesn't answer.

"This is Edward. Something's come up. Call me back right away."

An hour later, I drive to the brewery feeling strangely empowered. I'm sick of letting Victoria dick me around and screw with my life. That's what she's been doing for years, and it ends now.

I hop out of the truck, my boots sinking into the muddy lot as I make my way towards the tasting room. Seth is already here, wiping down the bar and chatting with Garrett. I give them both a wave and a grunt as I pass on my way to the office.

Emmett is already inside when I enter, still watching that damn footage. I'm about to tell him to just fire Liam and be done with it when he hears me approach, swiveling around in his chair. His expression is grim, probably from watching hour upon hour of boring surveillance video.

"You really should get out more. I think—"

"Edward," he says, cutting me off. "I think you need to sit down."

"What? Why, did you find something?"

He nods and glances surreptitiously over his shoulder . . . I notice he's hiding the screen from my view. I crane my neck to see, but he prevents me with his bulk, gesturing again to the chair.

Foreboding. That's the only way to describe the feeling that engulfs me as I do as he says.

"Emmett, what the fuck is going on?"

Finally he moves away, giving me a view of the screen. I can't quite make out the paused frame of the video surveillance tape. But when he presses play and the image comes to life, it couldn't be clearer.

Victoria is lying naked and spread-eagle on the office desk, and some guy is pistoning into her like a jackhammer.

I feel sick.

"I told you you needed to sit down."

* * *

**A/N: Oh, snap! Lemme hear it . . .  
**

**Some exciting news: The Twic Club will be discussing Strange Brew tomorrow night (April 7th) at 8:30 ET! To join in, register at http:/twic-club(dot)990383(dot)n3(dot)nabble(dot)com/**


	20. Operation Nut Cracker

**A/N: SM owns it; all other copyrights are held by their respective owners. Thanks to Mac214, as always. I'm pretty sure she's a vampire with super-human beta capabilities. **

**Meet me at the bottom for a note and some rec's! **

* * *

**"**_**An intelligent man is sometimes forced to be drunk to spend time with his fools.**_**"  
-**_**For Whom the Bell Tolls**_**, Ernest Hemingway (What can I say? The man had good beer quotes.)**

**Chapter 20: Operation Nut Cracker**

I can't stop staring at the screen before me; it's really her, and I'm about to lose the granola bar I had for breakfast. Rage makes my entire body tingle with energy—the fucking nerve!

The man's face isn't entirely visible, but I can see his body and the top of his head, the curly black hair and lanky frame a dead giveaway. Victoria's screwing Liam . . . on the office desk. I make a mental note to disinfect the hell out of that thing the next time I go in to the pub. I may not have my dad's fear of germs, but visions of disinfectant and sandblasting run through my brain. Was he taking the money for her? I never even suspected she might have been somehow linked to the theft—how could I have been so dumb?

"Holy shit."

"Dude, this is so messed up." Emmett stops the tape and swivels around in his chair. He looks about as outraged as I feel. "I can't watch this anymore."

"I can't fucking believe it." I shake my head, finally wrenching my eyes away from the paused tape.

"I think this just about proves it wasn't Jasper. It gives Liam motive for stealing." He shakes his head, chuckling a little in disgust and amusement.

"I can't fucking _believe_ it!" I say again, pounding the desk with my fist.

"Believe it, bro. It's as plain as day."

I'm still attempting to process the last few minutes and the ramifications of the shocking video. "When was this?"

"November eighth." Emmett gestures to the numbers at the top of the screen that mark the date and time. 1:45 a.m. Assholes. At least they waited 'til after closing.

But the date is significant for a far more important reason—it's two months before she left me. She'd been having an affair . . . I don't whether to laugh or punch my desk again. It all makes so much sense now—her increasingly cold and volatile behavior, her demand for money, which had just gotten worse the closer we got to separating.

"How stupid can you be?" Emmett mutters. "I mean really, fucking in the pub? I had my doubts about Victoria, but this is mind-blowing. And Liam . . . I mean, could he really have his head so far up his ass that he'd never suspected we'd figure out about the money? And the fact that we trusted him to manage the place . . . what an asshole."

I get up from my chair and start pacing. "I guess this throws your gambling theory out the window."

"No it doesn't. He bet he wasn't going to get caught," Emmett jokes, his attempt to lighten the situation.

"You're an idiot."

"Sorry."

I sigh, rubbing my hands over my face. Now that the initial shock is wearing off, I'm pissed off at myself. Here I've been worried about my relationship with Bella, and I never even suspected Victoria of seeing someone else. Emmett's not the idiot – I am.

I think I mumble something to that effect, since Emmett glances up at me with sympathy.

"Dude, you didn't know. Don't be so hard on yourself."

"I should have had someone trailing her. If we never discovered the missing money . . ." I'd basically be paying my ex-wife alimony for screwing around on me – not exactly a welcome thought.

"Well, we did. And this should be all you need to get the bitch off your back."

"Do you think it'll be admissible?"

"Seems like pretty hard evidence to me." My brother smiles enthusiastically, evidently appreciating his own wit.

"Emmett . . ." I mutter, shaking my head. "Enough with the puns."

"Right. Should we call Jenks?"

"Let's do it."

"That's what she—"

I glare at him.

"Too soon?"

"Yes. Too soon."

**/S8B\\\**

A few hours later, we've filled Jenks in on the theft at the pub and the three of us gather around Emmett's computer as he plays the footage again. I can't watch it, but Jenks' eyes widen in disbelief, an expression that becomes positively gleeful. Emmett seems to be having a field day as well. Both of them clap me on the back like I've just won the lottery, and in a way I guess I have. I don't know why I don't feel happier—this is just what I wanted.

"So, this'll do the job?" Emmett asks Jenks. I know he's referring to the settlement.

Jenks smiles and rubs his hands together before slapping his knees and standing. "This is pretty damning, and it should hold up in court. Workplace surveillance is generally considered legal unless it interferes with the employee's expectation of privacy. Since this is your office, not the bathroom or something, you should be fine." He pauses, leaning against Emmett's desk. "And when we show this to Aro and Victoria, I doubt they'll want to go to court at all. This may be your ticket to a quick and painless divorce, Edward, though it wouldn't hurt if we had some extra insurance."

"Like what?"

"If you could get Liam to agree to a sworn affidavit stating his involvement with Victoria, that should be all we need. She won't get a red cent of your money. Even Aro won't be fool enough to try to fight that kind of evidence."

Perhaps it's the months of anxiety, but I can't seem to muster my share of their optimism. "How the hell are we supposed to get that? There's no way he's going to confess to taking the money."

Jenks pats my shoulder. "You never know. You have the falsified bank deposits; if you confront him with those, he might just take the bait, especially if you threaten to bring in the police. Liam has a lot to lose."

"We don't know if they're together anymore," Emmett muses. "And we don't know what Liam wanted out of this—it's not necessarily love. He could turn against her to save his ass."

Jenks nods in agreement. "If you're willing to forego charges, perhaps."

"I don't know about that." I look over at Emmett, wanting to know what he thinks. He shrugs, basically letting me know it's my call.

"Well, think it over and let me know how you want to proceed. We should get the ball rolling on this sooner rather than later. And save a couple copies of that video. It's important nothing happens to it."

Jenks has to run to meet another client, leaving Emmett and me alone. I decide to send Seth home early and close the tasting room since Mondays are generally slow, and now would be a fucking fantastic time for a beer. Or ten. Emmett agrees.

I pour us a couple British pints and take a large sip, wiping the foam from my top lip. Being behind the bar without Bella feels strange. And that reminds me—I should probably call her and see how she's holding up. Charlie's surgery begins early in the morning, and the results will determine how the rest of the summer plays out—maybe even the rest of our relationship.

"So, this could be it," Emmett says, resting his elbows on the wood. It's ironic how his question answers the thought in my head, though not in the way he intended.

"Could be."

"I bet you can't wait to see the look on her face when you show the tape. Man, I wish I could be there for that."

I smirk, allowing myself the satisfaction of imagining the scene.

"Do you want to bring Jazz in on this now? Maybe he'll have some ideas about how to confront Liam."

"That's not a bad idea." Now that we suspect Liam and Victoria were in on the theft together, having Jasper's perspective might be helpful. But I know how disappointed he'll be; he and Liam have always gotten along.

Emmett takes a giant sip of beer and burps loudly. "So what's going on with Bella? Is her dad okay?"

"Surgery's tomorrow."

"Are you gonna tell her about all this?"

"Not yet. She has other things to worry about."

"She might welcome the good news."

"Yeah, but what if it doesn't work out? I don't want to get her hopes up until everything's squared away for sure."

"I can't remember; were you always such a cynic?"

I shrug. I haven't told him that the outcome of the surgery might cancel out the good news about Victoria. And really, while this business with Victoria and Liam is the best thing that could have ever happened—even if I don't love her anymore – it still sucks.

We finish up our beers and get ready to lock up for the night. Emmett promises to talk to Jasper and give me a call in the morning once we've all had time to get some perspective.

As soon as I get to the house, I call Bella. She doesn't answer, which worries me. I leave a brief message and grab another beer from the fridge, sitting down to watch the news. By seven she still hasn't called, so I dial her number again. Still nothing.

Shit. I'm just about to call the hospital to see if I can get through to her there when my phone buzzes.

_**With Dad and some friends. Call you tomorrow? **_

_**Okay, sure. I just wanted to see how you were.**_

_**I'm hanging in there. Charlie's pretty optimistic about tomorrow.**_

_**I'm glad to hear that.**_

Suddenly I feel so distant from her. I wish I could hop on the next plane, but I have to get this mess with Victoria sorted out. Who is she hanging out with—her friends or Charlie's? She's never told me much about her social life back home.

A second later the phone buzzes again. _**I miss you.**_

_**Me too, Goat Girl.**_

Me too.

The next morning, I wake up semi-hungover to the shrill ring of my phone. I reach for it groggily, disappointed it's not who I expected.

"Yo, bro!" Emmett bellows on the end of the line.

"Yeah?"

"You coming in today?"

"I was planning on it."

"Okay, well, I talked to Jasper. He had a pretty good idea about how we can approach Liam."

This gets my attention. I sit up a little straighter in bed.

"So you know the Sox game tonight?"

"Yeah."

"Let me tell you about a little plan we like to call 'Operation Nut Cracker'."

An hour later, I head to the brewery, muttering to myself about Emmett and Jasper's ridiculous scheme. It seems a little melodramatic to me, but I didn't have the heart to say no to my brother's detective fantasy. I haven't seen Emmett this excited since he got a paintball gun set for Christmas when we were teenagers, much to my father's dismay. Dad was concerned there were cancer-causing agents in the paint or, worse, materials that could cause instant blindness.

"_Whatever you do, don't get it in your eyes. I've seen it firsthand."_

"_Carlisle, that was on an episode of _E.R_."_

"_Stay out of this, Esme. If he loses his sight it'll be your fault." _

Dad pretty much took the rest of the joy out of the gift by enrolling us both in a gun safety course and taking us to the morgue to see a gunshot victim before we were allowed to use them. So really, the least I can do is let Emmett have a little fun.

By now, Charlie will be well into surgery. I still haven't heard from Bella, except for a brief text this morning to say he was going under, but I hope this is one of those cases where no news is good news.

For distraction, I throw myself into work. The Oktoberfest is just about finished fermenting and is ready to be transferred into the holding vats to settle a little before bottling, and Emmett and I give it a taste. Slightly sweet, malty, with a gorgeous, unfiltered reddish orange color – I think it's one of our best beers yet. We call the rest of the guys over and do a toast; everyone seems to like it. Slightly cheered, I almost forget about the phone that's not vibrating in my pocket.

Emmett and I are just finishing up lunch when it finally rings. He raises his eyebrows and smiles, and I feel as giddy as a chick getting asked to the prom. It's humiliating.

"Edward? Hi." The breathy, excited way Bella says my name makes me smile. I slip out of the office and head outside to get some privacy.

"Hey. What's going on?"

"Well, Charlie just got moved to recovery. He's still out of it, but I talked to the surgeon. He thinks it went really well."

I can hear the emotion welling up in her voice, the relief. It washes over me, too.

"Thank Christ."

"They won't know for sure until the swelling goes down, but they got the bullet out and most of the scar tissue. It might never be perfect, but it'll be a lot less painful for him now."

"I'm so glad to hear that. Baby, are you okay?" Now she's sniffling.

"I'm okay. I'm just so overwhelmed. I was so worried."

"I know." I settle down on the picnic table, cradling the phone to my ear.

"I'm sorry I couldn't talk last night. The Blacks were here to visit Charlie, and I hadn't seen them in a while. By the time they left I was so exhausted I just went home and passed out."

The Blacks? I've never heard the name before—these must be the friends Bella referred to in her text.

"Who?"

"Oh," Bella says noncommittally, "I never told you about Jake and Billy?"

"No."

"Billy and my dad go way back. And I've been friends with his son Jake forever. Well," she seems to consider her choice of words, "used to be."

"Friends?" I ask, sensing there's something she's not telling me.

I can almost see her blush at the end of the line.

"We dated a little in high school. I haven't seen him in a while."

"A little?"

"He was my first boyfriend."

"Ah." I can't help the jealousy that rises up in me . . . why didn't she tell me before? And here she was all the way across the country hanging out with this guy, her ex-boyfriend? Somewhere I know I'm just being stupid, but this whole Victoria affair thing is so fresh in my mind . . .

Bella goes on to describe the fish fry Billy and his friend Harry cooked for Charlie and sent to the hospital, even though it was against regulation. She sounds a little nervous. Why? Does she still have feelings for this Jake character?

"Oh my God!" she exclaims finally, switching topics. "I forgot to tell you."

"Tell me what?"

"My dad, the self-proclaimed permanent bachelor, has a girlfriend."

"Really?"

"He's trying to play it off like it's nothing serious, but she's been over every night. My dad doesn't like to talk about that stuff, but I can tell he likes her a lot. And you know the weirdest part?"

"Hmm?" I ask, trying to muster enthusiasm but failing miserably.

"She's my high school guidance counselor, Ms. Cope. I had to go meet with her when I got caught smoking weed in 11th grade."

I wonder if she was with Jake when she got caught. What else did she do with him? Fucking hell, I can't deal with the images that pop into my head.

"My dad was furious. And anyway, I guess they kind of stayed in touch after that."

I must be pretty quiet because Bella says my name again.

"Yeah?"

"You still there?"

"Sorry," I say blankly, staring at the ground. "I'm just busy."

"Oh, I don't mean to keep you from work." She sounds sad again, and it's my fault. But I can't get my brain to stop thinking about all kinds of what-if scenarios. What if she does move far away? What if she meets someone else? She's so young. And I love her so fucking much it hurts.

I mutter something about it not being a big deal.

"Edward? Are you moping about the Jake thing?"

"No," I lie.

She sees through me immediately.

"Yes, you are. I can tell. See, this is why I didn't tell you before. It's nothing . . . we're just friends now. He has a new girlfriend, Nessie something or other."

"Oh."

"And I'm with you." Her voice is so soft and sweet, saying just the words I want to hear. I feel horrible for doubting her, so why do I still feel like shit?

"Sorry. I'm just being an asshole."

"Well, stop it. I'll be home on Saturday, okay?"

"Okay."

Just then Bella gets the notification that Charlie's waking up. We say our goodbyes, but I still don't feel like going inside. I know she's telling the truth about Jake. But I thought Victoria . . . fuck.

_Bella's not Victoria._

The dark thoughts prove impossible to keep at bay. Who's to say she won't leave me for someone else some day? Some douchey vet guy? Maybe someday I'll discover another tape, only this one won't be like Victoria and Liam, a welcome find.

It would destroy me.

"Ed?" Emmett pokes his head outside the door. "Dude, we need you on the floor."

"Coming," I say, standing and pocketing my phone. I can't think about this anymore, or I'll really go insane.

**/S8B\\\**

After work, I follow Emmett back to his apartment. Jasper's already there with a couple twelve packs of a competitor's beer.

"Traitor," I say, eyeing the bottles suspiciously.

"Hey, this stuff is really high percentage. I figure if we're going to do this, we're going to do it right."

"Fair enough."

I trail behind the two of them as they chatter on about the two phases of Operation Nut Cracker. When we enter Emmett's apartment, he immediately sets up a burned copy of the video in his DVD player—that's phase two. Liam still hasn't arrived.

"You think he's onto us?" Emmett asks, flipping on the NESN pregame show.

"Nah. He was so excited I invited him over." Jasper kicks his sneakers off and rests his feet on the coffee table. "You okay with this, Edward?"

"I suppose," I say wryly. It's a little late to voice my objections now.

We don't have to wait long. Liam is nothing if not punctual. There's a knock on the door about five minutes later.

"Come in," Emmett shouts from his place on the couch.

Liam enters with a smile on his face—I want to knock his teeth out.

"Hey, guys," he says, taking a seat on the other end of the couch. "Game started?"

"Just about," I say, unable to keep the ironic tone out of my voice. Oh, if you only knew.

I take another sip of the insanely high percentage beer, willing myself calm.

"Whatcha drinking there, boss?" he asks. Boss. What an asshole. I can't even bring myself to answer, so luckily Jasper does it for me.

"It's this great beer from downstate. I'll grab you one," he says, standing up with his bottle. I know he hasn't actually finished his beer, but the plan is to make it look like we're all drinking a lot. Emmett and Jasper are going to stay sober since they're the ones 'in charge,' but I'm not making any promises.

Jasper comes back and hands Liam an open bottle, settling back down on the chair across from me. I meet his eyes, and he gives me a "stay cool" look. I'm trying, but it's not easy sitting in the same room as the jackass who's been stealing from me and fucking my wife.

And the bastard is so nonchalant . . . I hoped he'd at least look guilty or something.

Finally, the game begins. Jasper and Emmett are surprisingly good actors, plying Liam with tons of beer and acting increasingly drunk and belligerent. I stay quiet, knowing if I open my mouth I'm likely to blow it.

"That was a fucking joke!" Jasper yells at the screen. "Get him outta there!"

It's the bottom of the third, and Daisuke's already given away three runs.

"Fucking ridiculous!" Emmett rejoins, throwing a bottle cap at the screen before turning to Liam. "'Nother beer, man?"

"Sure, that'd be greath." Liam's already begun slurring his words, indicating phase one of Operation Nut Cracker is nearing completion. Emmett gives me a wink before getting up to pour his beer out and get Liam another one.

By the fifth inning, the Sox are down by six and bottles are piling up all around. Liam has to be pretty stupid not to realize the rest of us aren't even a quarter as hammered as he is.

"I can't even watch this," Jasper mutters with disgust. It's part of the plan, but I know he's serious, too.

"Yeah," Liam agrees with a drunken nod.

And that's the cue. Emmett turns the DVD player on. "Maybe we should watch something else."

His casual suggestion almost makes me laugh.

All of us turn to Liam, waiting for his reaction. At first he seems confused. He squints at the video, leaning forward on the couch.

"What the . . . whath's this?"

"It's this great film we picked up the other day," Emmett says. "Home movie."

Liam watches the silent black and white video, his face turning green. He looks like he's about to be sick.

"Where did you . . . what . . ."

"Yeah, didn't know there was a camera in the office, did you?"

"I . . . uh . . ." Liam stutters, blinking nervously.

Emmett takes out the folder of suspect receipts, slamming down on the table with a flourish, standing up and cracking his knuckles. He's the bad cop and clearly loving his role.

"Do you mind explaining this?" he says angrily. Liam glances down at the papers, then back at the video. His gaze darts to my face, obviously scared out of his mind. Even though he'd never hurt a fly, Emmett's size can be incredibly intimidating.

"I . . . I . . ."

Jasper stands up and grabs his phone.

"If you start talking now, I won't call the police." His voice is a little softer. The good cop. It's like watching a movie, only this movie is my life. Still, I'm enjoying seeing him squirm.

"How did you . . ."

"Cut the crap, Liam." Emmett leans over him, poking him in the chest. Poor Liam looks about ready to piss himself. I almost feel bad for him. "Start talking."

And so he does. In an almost incomprehensible stream of gibberish, Liam confesses to everything—taking the money for Victoria to help pay for her lawyer, just as we suspected. When Emmett asks how long the affair went on, I almost lose it.

Two years.

Two fucking years!

"But . . . but ith's over," he stammers, directing the statement at me. "I thwear. I broke it off . . . it wath just getting to be too much for me. I told her I wathn't going to take any more money, and she got angry."

"When?" I ask, still seething. I can't believe this guy. I'd thought of him as more of a friend than an employee, and he screwed around with my wife for two years of our marriage.

"After your party."

"My birthday?"

"Yeth. I . . . I heard you talking to Emmett about Bella."

I wrack my brain, trying to remember the night . . . shit, yes! Liam was in the office when Em approached me in the kitchen.

"And then what? You told Victoria?"

He nods, his face coloring in embarrassment. "She'd been looking for thomething on you, but she didn't have anything. I told her and she got really excited. She wanted me to trail you guyth and take pictureth or something."

So, she did know about Bella and me when she came to the brewery that day. That lying . . . I'm so fucking angry I could spit, recalling the way she'd tried to manipulate me.

"Did you?" I ask through gritted teeth.

"No. I refused. And I told her I wasn't going to steal anymore. She got really angry . . ." he trails off, slurring less obviously now. I suppose getting your ass handed to you has a sobering effect.

"So you broke it off?" Emmett chimes in.

He nods again. "Anyway, it just proved she didn't really care about me."

Poor bastard. He seems like he really loves her. But—the cynic in me notes—not enough _not_ to want to save his own skin.

Suddenly I feel very weary.

Emmett and Jasper take over again, getting Liam to agree to swear an affidavit the following morning, a meeting we've already set up with Jenks and a county clerk. All my bases are covered, so to speak.

I don't feel like staying for the rest of the game, so I excuse myself. Liam looks incredibly sheepish.

"I'm so thorry, Edward."

"Save it, asshole. By the way, you're fired."

"Are you going to have me arrested?"

I sigh, looking at Emmett. "Not if you sign that affidavit tomorrow."

He thanks me profusely, like I've told him he's been promoted instead. It's pathetic really; I'm not even mad anymore. Just tired.

Emmett walks me to the door, giving me a one-armed hug and a slap on the back.

"I declare Operation Nut Cracker a success."

"Yeah. Looks that way. What are you going to do with him?"

"Well, I'm not letting him out of here, that's for sure. I'll keep tabs on him until the meeting."

"Ten?"

"Ten," he confirms.

I smile half-heartedly.

"Ed, cheer up, man. You can be with your girl now. It's all set."

"I know. It's just a lot to deal with, you know?"

"Dude, I hear you. If I ever found out . . ." he shudders, obviously thinking about Rose. But she would never do that to Emmett.

_And Bella wouldn't do it to me. _

"Yeah."

"Okay. I'll see you tomorrow."

I start to feel a little sappy just before I turn to go.

"Emmett, thanks. I really . . . appreciate this."

He smiles and punches me in the arm. "You're my brother."

"And . . . you're not an idiot."

"Gee, thanks." He rolls his eyes before closing the door on me.

What a fucking day.

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, so Beerward's a little mopey. Let's see what happens next chapter when Bella returns! Thanks so much for reading everyone! Please review and let me know what you think.**** I also wanted to give you a heads up that we're getting to the end of the story.**

**Thanks to the ladies over at the TwiFic club for featuring SB as the WIP fic on April 7th!** I had a great time chatting about SB, and if you're interested the next conversation will take place on April 17th, featuring the completed story Paper CutOuts—it's great fun!

http:/twicclub(dot)thetwilightawards(dot)com/2011/03/twicclub-story-selections-wip-and(dot)html

**Also, check out my review of the lovely and talented BellaFlan's Stigmata Tomato.** Give it a read and don't forget to review the story! It's a real gem.

http:/twificpics(dot)com/newtons/2011/04/fic-rec-magnolia822-experiences-stigmata/

**I've finally been able to get my fic on. Here are a few I've really enjoyed recently:**

Firefly in Summer by primarycolors: Just read this yesterday. Whoa. It's angsty, but just read it, and finish ALL the chapters, even if you get skeered. That's all I'll say.

In Vain by BrattyVamp: I'm loving this Darkward Fic. So exciting! Updates every M/W/F and BrattyVamp is a doll.

Pressed for Time by Twanza: Under-reviewed, a great mix of UST, sweetness, angst, and humor. Love it.

Fold Your Wings by Jadalulu: You're probably already reading this, but if you're not you should be!

The Best I Ever Had by WhatsMyNomDePlume: So sweet and funny. I love this Edward. Heart-fail free!


	21. Say It With Beer

**Disclaimer: SM owns it all. Thanks, as always, to Mac214 for her super awesome job making this readable. xox**

* * *

**"Life is too short to drink cheap beer."-Anon**

**Chapter 21: Say it With Beer**

My whole body buzzes with anticipation on the way to Montpelier, but I attempt to restrain myself from pressing to hard on the gas pedal. Victoria and her crooked lawyer aren't going to know what hit them.

"Mr. Cullen," Heidi says disinterestedly, "Mr. Stein would like you to go right in." She takes a large slurp of coffee and goes back to reading her paperback novel—some kind of trashy romance bullshit, if the cover gives the plot away.

"Is Jason Jenks here yet?" She doesn't even look up.

"Yes," she replies, stifling a yawn. Either she's boning Aro, or he's given instructions to be as rude as possible to the opposition.

I give her a curt nod and head down the hall to Aro's office. Thankfully, this is the last time I'll ever have to step foot in this building. I hope.

Now that we have Liam's signed and notarized affidavit along with the videotape, Jenks is pretty sure we can wrap up most of the proceedings today. He called an emergency meeting with the other side, but as far as they know I'm here to capitulate to Victoria's asinine demands. I can't fucking wait to see the look on her face.

The door to Aro's office stands ajar, and a glance inside tells me that, though I'm five minutes early, I'm last to arrive.

"Mr. Cullen," Aro says smugly from behind his desk. He doesn't make any effort to stand. "Do come in."

Victoria sits in a high backed chair, the content smile on her face widening when I enter. I can barely keep the disgust out of my voice as I murmur my greetings, not making eye contact with anyone but Jenks.

"Edward," my lawyer says, standing and shaking my hand. "Please sit."

As I do, the freshly-oiled leather upholstery squeaks underneath me. Jenks smiles and accepts the folder I pass him that contains the DVD and a copy of Liam's affidavit.

"I must say I was surprised to receive your phone call yesterday afternoon, Jason," Aro begins with a sly smile. "Happily, one of my appointments today cancelled, otherwise I'm afraid it would have been very difficult indeed to meet on such short notice."

"Yes, well. I'm afraid this meeting couldn't wait." Jenks' deceptively pleasant tone almost makes me laugh.

"No, it couldn't. I agree entirely."

Victoria clears her throat, and I allow myself a look at her. She's wearing a suit, her perfectly manicured nails drumming on the surface of Aro's giant desk. The irritating sound gets under my skin almost immediately.

"Mr. Cullen," Aro says, steepling his fingertips and leaning forward. "I take it you've had time to reconsider our earlier conversation?"

I think back to the previous meeting with the mediator that had gone disastrously wrong.

"Oh, definitely."

"It pleases me to hear that. I'm afraid my client was not looking forward to bringing forth her evidence against you in court."

"What evidence?" I ask innocently; all the while the tantalizing prospect of victory swells in my chest. It's taking pretty much all my self-control not to wipe the satisfied smirk off Aro's face with my fist.

"Yes. Victoria?" Aro leans back, a façade of seriousness smoothing out his face as he turns toward her.

"I know you've been . . . seeing that girl. The new one. Bella Swan."

"Oh, really?" I ask, my eyes latching onto hers in challenge. "And just how do you figure that?"

"I'm not blind, Edward. Once I left the other day, I remembered where I recognized her from. She's the waitress—the one from Newton's. The one who used to wait on us and stare at you? I should've known then something was going on. But I didn't think . . . you'd do that to me." To make her performance even more dramatic, she adds a little sniffle at the end as a flourish. Aro pats her hand gently, his smile laced with practiced

concern.

I raise my eyebrows in mock guilt, trying to suppress my smirk.

"I spoke with one of the other waitresses there. She told me how . . ." God help me, a tear falls from her eye. I wonder if she's been practicing that fake crying shit. "She told me you and Bella have been seeing each other for over a year. And the way that girl used to look at you . . ."

A couple more tears slip out. Oh, this is rich.

But the irony is fucking unbelievable. Here she sits trying to paint me as some kind of cheater when I'm the one with physical evidence against her. It's almost sad, really.

Even though we're in the middle of a tense situation, her words about Bella make me wonder if they could be true. A warm feeling spreads through my body. Bella used to look at me? I file that little bit of information away for later.

"What waitress?" I ask, playing along.

"Carmen."

I try to remember the faces of any of Newton's old employees, and I can't conjure her up. I wonder how much Victoria had to pay this chick to lie. The only knowledge that Victoria has about Bella and me came from Liam, and Jenks sits with that information in his lap.

"I see. Yeah, that Carmen—she's got a big mouth, doesn't she?"

"So, you admit it?" Her eyes grow wide, confused. Clearly, she wasn't expecting me to own up to anything.

"Yeah, I admit it. I've been dating Bella for a little over a month."

"Oh, longer than that, Edward." She clutches one hand to her chest dramatically, reaching out with the other to grasp the desk. It's not a very convincing move. I'm a little disappointed—it looks more like she's experiencing heartburn than heartache.

"No. Actually not, and you know it," I say, standing and stalking over to where she sits. "I don't know how much you paid this waitress, but you're full of shit. You're the only one who treated our marriage like a fraud. And it's too bad, too, because I would rather have a week being happy with Bella than a lifetime of misery with you."

I grip the edges of the wood firmly, my knuckles whitening. I allow myself the victorious smirk that's been building for the past half-hour; in fact, I revel in it. Victoria leans back in her chair. It doesn't escape my notice that her hand automatically reaches out for Aro.

"Are you fucking this guy too?" I ask, gesturing towards the scumbag to her right. "Huh?"

The man in question speaks to me in icy tones. "I'd thank you to remove your hands from my desk, Mr. Cullen, and cease threatening my client."

"Edward," Jenks says from behind me. "I think you better sit down."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Victoria says softly, but I can see she's rattled. Well, she hasn't seen anything yet.

Without further ado, Jenks unloads his laptop and flips it open, sliding the copied disk inside.

What happens next is almost comical. I wish I had a camera to capture the look on Aro's face—he stares at the scene unfolding in front of him with pure, unadulterated shock.

Victoria's face grows pale, then nearly green. I watch the both of them, committing every reaction to memory. Jasper and Emmett have demanded a play by play, but I don't want to forget this moment either. After the months of hell she's put me through, this is my revenge. And it is fucking sweet.

"I don't . . . I . . ."

"Take a good look. See the date there? This is from back in November . . . you know, before you left me? Didn't know you were being videotaped, did you?" I ask, leaning back in my chair and cracking my knuckles. "Your little lover boy Liam came clean about the money and your fucked up plan to get dirt on me to help with your bullshit case. Let me tell you that ain't gonna happen. Jenks?"

Jenks stands up, sliding a copy of the affidavit over between the two, stock-still figures. Victoria glances down at the paper nervously, but Aro's eyes are still latched on the screen. He's not wearing the expression of a lawyer fearful of losing his case—he's wearing the expression of a jilted lover. So she has been fucking him—and fucking him over—too. Figures.

"Victoria?" he asks, his veneer of calm not only cracked, but obliterated. "What is this?"

"I . . . it was months ago."

His expression changes again as he regains his control, but his voice is cold as ice. "I think you and I need to have a _private_ conversation."

"Aro, it's not what you think. I can explain . . . I broke up with him."

"Two _weeks_ ago," I clarify with not a small amount of glee in my tone, my eyes on Aro. "And as far as he told it, he was the one who broke up with you." I tap the paper in front of them. "Read for yourself."

Victoria's lawyer and probably soon-to-be ex lover finally glances down at Liam's statement. He picks up the paper, giving it a quick once-over. I watch his jaw clench when he reaches what must be a particularly damning part. I feel like giggling like a little girl but manage to hold it in and be manly.

"Two years?" he mutters, shaking his head. Apparently she never found it necessary to inform Aro about her long-standing affair with Liam. I almost feel bad for the guy. Almost.

He finishes reading and throws the paper down with obvious disgust.

"Well, Victoria," he says icily. "I very much doubt you'll want to go to court now, my dear, unless you want to be indicted for theft." I'm sure Aro's anger has more to do with the fact that Victoria didn't tell him about her plan, rather than any moral discomfort. Still, it's a relief to see his confidence undermined.

Jenks clears his throat.

"If you drop the case and agree to a no-fault, alimony-free divorce, Edward won't press charges," Jenks says standing and patting my back. He puffs his chest out a little, clearly enjoying seeing the two of them squirm as much as I am. "We'd also like you to sign a statement waiving all rights to future monetary demands."

The idea of dropping charges hadn't appealed to me at first, but Jenks maintained it could be used as leverage to end the case. In the end I'd agreed - anything to put a speedy end to an already drawn out process. And the truth is, I don't give a rat's ass about the money she stole. I mean, I do, but I just want this done.

Victoria glances at Aro, then back at me and Jenks, her face blanching. "I'll be left with nothing," she whispers.

"That's the risk you took when you started fucking another man and stealing my money."

The pitch of my voice rises again as I glare at her, now allowing myself to feel the full rage that's been lying under my relief. All these years, and I didn't know her at all. "I hope it was worth it."

Victoria raises her eyes, tearing with remorse. But I refuse feel any sympathy; she's obviously never felt any for me.

Two hours later, I'm on my way back to Burlington, replaying the rest of the meeting over in my mind. It didn't take long before Victoria admitted to fabricating the evidence against me and agreed to our terms. As a final gesture of good will, I let her keep the money in the joint checking account—more than she deserved, perhaps, but even I couldn't send her off with absolutely nothing. Now the lawyers are drawing up the requisite paperwork; by next week it'll be signed and submitted. I'll be a free man.

"_Can I just ask why? Why did you do it, Victoria?" _

"_I knew we were over. It was only a matter of time, and I wanted to provide for myself. I didn't want to end up like my mom, scraping by just to survive." _

"_That's it?" _

"_That's it." _

I'm still stunned by the simplicity of her motivation. And the idiocy. If she'd just accepted a more moderate bargain to begin with, perhaps we'd already have been divorced by the time Emmett found the video footage. Then I'd be paying her for betraying me.

As soon as I pull into the driveway of my too big, empty house, I know I can't stay here. Bella won't be back for a couple of days, but I miss her so fucking much. I sit in my idling truck for a minute before silencing the engine and walking into the house, resigned.

_That's it. _

The sooner I can sell this place, the better.

/S8B\\\

For the next couple of days, I'm a mopey bastard, even by my usual standards. I don't know why I feel like such shit since I've just gotten what I wanted.

My conversations with Bella are brief. Charlie's recovery is going even better than expected, and she's spending as much time with him as possible before she leaves. Apparently Shelley Cope has practically moved into his house, and Bella hasn't had much to do besides play cards with her dad and watch baseball. But then she walked in on Shelley, clad only in a flimsy nightgown, giving Charlie what appeared to be a very ill advised lap dance. Needless to say it was a regrettable incident for all involved.

I really don't want to get into the Victoria situation over the phone, so I decide to save it for when she returns. How am I supposed to tell her that my wife thought so little of me that she cheated, stole, and lied—all because she didn't love me. Of course the other side of me can't wait to tell her, because it means we can finally be together without worrying.

Finally, there's a tiny, stupid, annoying part of my mind that imagines a similar scenario unfolding with Bella. I know better than to think this, of course, and I hate myself for doubting her. But there was a time when I never would have thought Victoria could be capable of such a thing, either. All of that has translated into me being a little terse on the phone—and Bella's definitely noticed.

I might as well eat a carton of ice cream and watch Lifetime movies all day, like the chick that I am.

I don't go into work on Friday, and on Saturday morning, I'm lounging on my couch eating a bag of potato chips when Emmett and Jasper barge through the door without knocking.

"Dude," Emmett says, shaking his head as he looks around the living room. "It smells like an elephant's foreskin in here."

"They're sour cream and onion - want some?" I ask, extending the bag.

"Nah." I greet Emmett's dismissal with a shrug, grabbing another chip.

"What are you doing?" Jasper asks, crossing his arms.

I raise my eyebrows, eyeing them like the unobservant assholes they are. "Eating breakfast."

"You didn't come in yesterday," Emmett remarks.

"I didn't feel like it."

"Why? I thought the meeting went well."

In the brief message I left Emmett after the meeting on Thursday, I omitted most of the details.

"It did."

"So why are you comfort eating?" Jasper asks, the corner of his mouth drawn up in a smirk.

"I'm not," I object, tossing the bag aside. "There's just no food here."

"Bro, you do know Bella's coming back today, right?"

"I know."

"What's she gonna think about all this?"

I shrug, my eyes glancing around the room. There's shit everywhere. Maybe I have been a little distracted the past couple of days. Not exactly an ideal welcome home atmosphere.

"Have you told her what went down?"

"Not yet. What are you - the relationship police?"

Emmett sits down and kicks off his shoes, propping his feet up on my coffee table while Jasper stands giving me an appraising glance.

"So, you and Bella," Jasper says. I'd almost forgotten he must have found out for the first time during Operation Nutcracker.

"Yeah." I nod.

Emmett finally gives in and grabs the bag of chips, cramming an unholy amount into his mouth and crunching loudly.

"Alice didn't buy Bella that ticket to Washington, did she?"

I shake my head, surprised she's actually been able to keep her mouth shut. I would've thought she would have at least told Jasper by now. Another point for Alice.

"Aww, that's sweet," he teases, finally sitting down on Victoria's favorite overstuffed armchair.

I roll my eyes at him. "Shut up."

"So, what did the evil bitch do when you showed her the tape?"

"She pretty much freaked. But now she's out of my life for fucking real."

"Thank God."

"Amen," I agree.

"I fwear, Jafper," Emmett says, chip particles flying, "Ve shud go into law enfocement."

Jasper nods his agreement. "We were pretty badass."

"FBI material." My brother grins and flexes his arm.

I stare at Jasper pointedly. "Yeah, I don't think you can get into the FBI if you grow pot in your basement."

"That was only that one summer!"

"Yeah," Emmett says with a laugh. "I forgot about that."

"You were a really shitty at it, anyway," I joke. "Maybe they won't hold it against you."

The two of them hang out for a while longer, but even though he pretends to be casual, I can tell Emmett's worried about me. Before they leave, he pulls me aside.

"Dude, Victoria is the devil. And a hooker. She's a hooker devil."

"Your point?"

"I can see you're messed up over this shit—and I don't blame you at all. Honestly, I'd feel the same way. But Bella's not like that."

"I know."

"Do you? Because it seems like you might not. I mean, you gotta do what you gotta do, but I'd hate to see you fuck this up with Bella because of Victoria, get it?"

I nod, and he slaps me on the back so hard I almost stumble.

"Good. Well, I gotta run."

"Thanks for coming by and eating all my chips, asshole." I snag the nearly empty bag back from him and peer inside, trying to ignore the grumble of hunger in my stomach.

"Next time you don't show up for work, you're fired."

"Har."

Emmett grabs my head and gives me a noogie, which I suffer indignantly.

"Oh, and bro? You might want to shower before you go visit Bella. You smell like shit."

"Thanks."

He grins again, answering Jasper's yell of impatience with "Coming!" and then a "that's what she said."

I find myself laughing in spite of myself as I shut the door behind them.

One thing's for sure, though: Emmett's right. If I fuck this up with Bella without even giving her a chance, I'll have no one to blame but myself. And then Victoria will win.

With a renewed sense of purpose, I toss the chips away and head for the shower.

It's five o'clock when I pull up outside Bella's apartment building. She texted me once she landed, and I know I've beaten her here. I glance at the message again as I make my way up the steps, thundering music letting me know that her roommates at least are home.

_**Plane just got in. Alice is here.**_

That's all it says.

I'd replied, asking her if she wanted me to come over, but she hadn't answered. So I figure either she hasn't checked her messages or she doesn't want me to. And that's just not acceptable.

I run my hand though my hair nervously and ring the doorbell.

Stomping footfalls and laughter resound before the door opens; a short guy with sandy blonde hair holding a giant cup of what seems to be piss poor beer stands in the hallway.

"What's up?" he asks.

"Hi, I'm here for Bella."

"Bells isn't back yet. Who're you?"

"I'm . . . her boyfriend. Edward."

"Boyfriend?" The guy seems shocked, and then his face looks like a light bulb just turned on.

"Edmund!" he exclaims. "Ha! So you and Bells are dating, huh? You the guy from the brewery?"

"Yes."

"Sorry. Sorry," he says, extending his empty hand. "I'm Mike Newton."

I take it and give him a firm shake.

"Newton . . ." Suddenly it all starts making sense. "The diner?"

"Yeah, it was my mom's. That's how I met Bells."

"Right. Sorry it closed down. I loved that place."

"Thanks - us too," he says with a smile. "Hey, man, you wanna come in and wait for her? My girlfriend's here, and Tyler and Ben are just setting up the bar-b-que in the back. Are you a burger or a hot dog man?" He widens the door enough for me to step through.

"Burger."

"Right on."

A half hour and one shitty beer later, which I'm proud to say I drink without complaining, Tyler, Ben, and I are sitting in the backyard, getting along pretty well, all things considered. I don't have much in common with them, but they're nice enough guys. Tyler, especially, seems like a cool kid. He and Bella are both pre-vet, and I enjoy hearing about the things they study that she thinks are too uninteresting to talk about.

Jessica, Mike's girlfriend, is just as annoying as Bella warned. I'm having a hard time ignoring her squeaky voice as she chatters to Mike, now manning the grill.

"And so Bella," Tyler says, "She's holding this giant boa constrictor as part of the demonstration. And it starts wrapping itself between her legs, and she gets this hilarious, panicked look on her face. And Doctor Chilton—she's so funny—she jokes that Bella's violating the snake, but Bella says . . ."

Ben cuts him off, obviously having heard the story one too many times.

"Your snake's violating me!"

The two of them laugh, and I just smile and shake my head. Definitely sounds like something she'd say.

"Belllaaa!" Jessica sings out enthusiastically, making us all turn our heads. There's my girl, looking tired and beautiful and . . . well, shocked.

"Edward?" she says, staring at the three of us.

"Burger or dog?" Mike asks.

"I'm a vegetarian, Mike," Bella says, rolling her eyes.

"Right, I forgot."

During their exchange, I've managed to stand and begin my approach, watching her cautiously. What starts as a look of disbelief softens to what I think might be happiness. I hope.

"What are you doing here?" she murmurs as I reach out and touch her soft, bare arm. The rest of her friends watch on curiously, and despite my desperate need to hug and kiss the fuck out of her, I figure neither of us really wants an audience.

"I came to see you."

"Yeah, why didn't you tell us you had a boyfriend, Bells?" Mike shouts. "Jeez. I thought we were friends."

"Oh. I . . . didn't think . . ." She's obviously taken off guard. I hope she doesn't mind being referred to as my girlfriend, but after the past few days she's probably confused as hell. I have to remedy the situation immediately. But Bella's distracted by the cup in my hand. Her nose scrunches up as she eyes it warily. "You're drinking Beast?"

"Is that what this is?" I ask, squinting into the cup.

"Not even I drink that." She laughs and I grin at the sound.

"When in Rome." Our eyes lock, and something passes between us . . . it makes that ache in my chest flare up again. I fucking love her. There's no doubt in my mind, Victoria and this whole mess be damned.

She smiles back, biting her bottom lip for a second and blushing. I take her hand in mine and squeeze.

"Umm . . ."

Everyone's still staring at us.

"Is there someplace we can go to talk?" I ask quietly. She nods and excuses us from the group, leading me back into the house. It's one of those old, musty smelling Victorians with dozens of rooms and original wood flooring that creaks underfoot.

I take her bag from where it sits near the foot of the stairs and let her lead me up the narrow staircase to the second floor. Bella's room is the second on the right, and as soon as I enter it, I'm filled with wonder. Her small, twin-sized bed is covered with a purple comforter, where a very well-loved looking stuffed horse keeps guard. The rest of the room is filled with books and papers, cluttered in a college student kind of way.

As soon as the door shuts, I wrap my arms around her and kiss her softly, pressing her body against the wooden frame. At first she's hesitant, but then her arms circle my neck and grip on tightly, a soft moan leaving her lips as our kiss intensifies. I can't get enough of her, warm and here and happy to see me.

"Wait, wait," she says breathily, breaking away. "What's going on, Edward? Why are you here? You told Mike you were my boyfriend? You're going to get caught. You . . ."

"Hey, slow down." I stroke her cheek and then kiss her temple. "I'm sorry. I need to explain."

"You've just been . . . so distant the past couple of days," she whispers. "I thought you were mad about the Jake thing."

"No. I'm not. I'm sorry," I say, running my fingers through her hair. "How's your father?"

"He's good. But you know, I think he was happy to see me go. I think he wants privacy." She seems to consider her statement for a minute, probably remembering the Shelley lap dance. "Gross."

"I'm so glad he's okay, that you're here."

"I'm glad too. I thought . . . I don't know. Maybe you were having second thoughts or something." She says the last couple of words so softly I can barely hear her, and when she looks up I can see the hurt in her eyes.

"Please forgive me. I've been such an asshole."

"I wouldn't go that far," she says, rolling her eyes, "but you have been weird."

"You've obviously never met me."

"Weirder than normal," she amends.

I notice the little pulse point at the side of her neck, and I bring my nose to it, nuzzling lightly, feeling her breath pick up and warm my scalp. It's making it pretty hard to concentrate. I can't seem to stop touching her—her jaw, her shoulders, her neck. She smells so good as I press her against the door again and twirl a strand of her soft hair between my fingers.

"Did something happen with Victoria?" she asks, finally distracting me from my exploration.

"Yeah. I . . . maybe we should sit. It's a long story."

Reluctantly, I release her and lead her toward the bed, which seems to be the only place available. Of course, that doesn't help my concentration because once we're sitting, I imagine lying, and once I imagine lying, I imagine naked.

But then I remember what I have to tell her, and my thoughts quickly settle.

"Someone was stealing from the pub," I begin. "And Emmett started looking over some old surveillance footage to figure it out."

As I relate the story, Bella's listens quietly, only interrupting to ask for clarification or for the occasional interjection-many of which are four letter words. Her expressive features give away all of her emotions—she laughs when I tell her about Operation Nutcracker, but when I finally get to the part about Victoria and Liam, her eyes fill with rage.

"I can't fucking believe that," she says, pounding her pillow with her fist. "And she paid off Carmen to back up her sick story? I can't even . . ."

She shakes her head, muttering to herself.

"So, you knew Carmen?"

"Knew her, yeah," she scoffs. "She was my old roommate. When we were freshmen I went out with this guy she liked—but I didn't even know it! She never told me. So then, of course, she hated me, and when I found out, I tried to make it up to her, but she never forgave me. We both worked at Newton's."

"Ahh," I say, finally understanding. "Victoria must have sniffed her out of the woodwork."

Bella nods with a little frown. "Needless to say, that's when I moved in here with the guys."

"Good choice." I've never been pleased Bella had male roommates, but now I completely understand. And, from what I've seen at least, they really seem to look out for her.

"Yeah." Bella shudders, remembering.

Her hand drifts to my knee, rubbing lightly as I complete the story, ending with my meeting with Victoria and Aro and my suspicions about their relationship.

"So, it's done?"

"Almost. I just have to sign the papers next week."

She sighs. I can't see her face with her hair in the way, so I move it back and over her shoulder. When she looks up again, I'm shocked to see tears in her eyes.

"Edward—I'm so fucking sorry she did those things to you."

"I—"

"No, it's not right. I thought she was bad before, but this, this just . . . it makes me sick. And Liam . . . and all this time you've been dealing with this alone. It's just . . ."

Without another word, she clambers into my lap. I have to shift back on the bed until I find the wall with my back for support, which is hard to do with Bella clinging to me like a koala.

"You're such a good person, and I . . . the thought of her . . . bitch . . ." she mumbles against my neck, squeezing tightly. I feel her lips against my skin, warming me. All my fears and resistance to her, to us, drift away.

"How could she ever want someone else?" Bella says, almost angrily. I feel her fingers rub a soothing rhythm on my scalp that makes me close my eyes in pleasure. "You're everything. The best of everything."

"I wasn't in love with her anymore. I don't know if I ever was."

I can't remember ever feeling for Victoria what I feel for this girl sitting here in my lap, cursing like a sailor and holding me tightly. My cock begins to harden having her close like this. I just want to be inside of her and show her how much of my world she's become.

"But you trusted her . . ."

"Yes."

"You must be so scared," she whispers.

"Scared? Of what?"

"Of me."

How does she see everything so clearly? Even when she's not really right, she senses the correct emotion. I am afraid, but not of her love. Only of losing it or not having it to begin with. I push her hair back again from where it hides her face from me and kiss her – first her lips, then nose, the sweet smelling spot near her temple.

"Edward," she says my name so softly I can barely hear it under our heavy breathing. My heart feels like it's about to beat out of my chest.

"Yeah?"

"Don't be scared. I'll wait for you to love me."

And that's it.

"You don't have to wait."

And she laughs, a sweet, pure cadence. I seek the sound out with my mouth, wanting to taste it. Her tongue slides against mine and I moan, rubbing my hands up and down her sides. I pull her against me with a grunt, wanting her to know I'm not afraid.

My dick strains against the fly of my jeans, and I nearly jump out of my skin when Bella reaches down and frees me without any preamble. I'm so hard and wanting her so fucking bad I can barely help her out of her tight shorts and onto me.

It's pure bliss when I'm sheathed inside her and when she starts to move, taking me in, riding me so slow and so good. I grasp her slim hips in my hands and help her move as my back knocks against the wall and our moans fill the room. It's a bit painful on my spine, but that's nothing compared to the feeling of her sweet wetness gripping my dick. I hardly notice anything else.

I hope the guys are still outside because the only one I want to hear Bella come is me.

She moans, thrusting her breasts forward and I take her nipple in my mouth, tugging and pulling with my lips and my teeth. She cries out and slams down with more vigor, grinding against me when I'm fully inside.

"I missed you," I murmur against her hot, flushed skin, unable to look at her pussy clenching and releasing my cock because if I do, I'll be done for.

I focus instead on the way her mouth opens and her eyes close, the way little pants of air whisper across my cheek as she draws closer. I trace my tongue along her bottom lip and she smiles, leaning in for a fuller, deeper kiss. Love her. Bella loves me.

"I want you to come inside me," she murmurs against my ear, begging me to lose control, and so I do, pushing away from the wall and pinning her to the bed with my body, driving into her until my cock is so hard I'll die if she doesn't get there soon.

"Bella . . . I . . . ugh . . ." I fuck her until she's clawing at my back, saying my name like a chant or a prayer.

When her head starts to thrash from side to side, I feel her body start to give in. She tightens her grip around me with her legs, seeking that final bit of friction. And then both of us are coming and it's so fucking good I see goddamn stars. That shit is for real.

"Bella," I whisper against her shoulder, keeping my dick inside her even when I begin to soften.

"Yeah?"

"I want to name a beer after you."

* * *

**A/N: Well, how did you like the reunion? Did Victoria get off too easy? Do let me know!**


	22. Strange Brew

**A/N: Thanks to Mac214 for betaing, as always. I raise my glass to you, my friend.**

**This is the last chapter of Strange Brew. There will be a very short epi which I will post shortly. Thank you for reading!**

* * *

**_"Who does not love beer, wine, women and song remains a fool his whole life long."_**  
**-Carl Worner**

**Chapter 22: Strange Brew**

"Are you sure I shouldn't dress up?" Bella asks, shutting the door behind her and swinging her bag over her shoulder. She's wearing her usual jeans and tank top and, as always, looks fucking hot. I try not to stare at the dip in her cleavage as I extend my hand. She takes it without mentioning my blatant ogle.

"We're just going to my parents'," I assure her. "And out where they live, you'll be glad you have pants on."

The mosquitoes are particularly bad this year, and Bella maintains they have a special affinity for her blood. I can't blame them, really. If I was a mosquito, Bella's blood would be simply irresistible.

"Yeah, I know. But this is the first time I'm meeting them . . . you know, as your girlfriend." She says the last word with a blushing smile, and it makes me grin in response.

"You look perfect," I assure her, giving her hand a squeeze. "They already like you, anyway."

"Like" is probably an understatement. In the two weeks since the finalization of my divorce, Bella and I have finally come out as a couple and, while most everyone we know has been thrilled, my parents exhibited an almost pathological exuberance. My dad especially. I have a feeling he can't wait to get Bella to the house and show her his encyclopedic collection of rare infectious disease diagnostic handbooks. He also has an outrageous store of antibacterial soap from around the world that I'm sure she'll be fascinated by.

"Okay."

I kiss her nose and lead her to Bruce. Er, my truck. Bella's been trying to revive the name she'd given it; unfortunately, it seems to be sticking.

"So how far out do they live?" She rolls down the window and props her feet up on the dashboard as we start to drive.

"Very," I comment wryly.

"Oh, Edward," she says with a laugh. "Don't be a jerk."

"How can it be avoided?"

"You've been doing pretty well lately, actually. I think this is the longest stretch I've seen you go without cussing someone out—it's been like twelve days."

I chuckle at her and run my right hand over her jean-clad thigh. "Well, don't worry. I'm sure Alice will do something to piss me off tonight."

"Nah, you guys are getting along too well lately. It's actually kind of creepy."

Ever since our plan to get Bella to Forks went off without a hitch, I've been making a concerted effort to be nicer to Alice. The fact that she no longer thinks I'm a complete douchebag doesn't hurt, either.

I can see Bella watching me out of the corner of my eye. When I look over at her, she's wearing a perplexed expression. "Why is that, by the way?"

I shrug and grin.

"Fine, be that way. But I'm definitely not giving you road head now. Too bad."

My eyes widen in surprise, and I think my mouth might drop open just a little.

"What?" I croak.

Bella laughs deviously and wiggles her feet on the dashboard. I can't tell if she's teasing or serious—knowing Bella, probably both. Road head might be the best and worst idea ever invented. I'd certainly crash, but it's the thought that counts. And the thought is fucking awesome.

The rest of the drive passes quickly. Time seems to do that when I'm with Bella. We chat about the brewery and the upcoming Oktoberfest release. Demand for our new seasonal is already high—we don't even have enough to satisfy all the requests from our distributors. We've had to step up production, so for now any plans for Bella Brown are on hold. Even with the expansion, we don't have the room for a new beer. But soon.

When I first mentioned my idea about her beer, I'm pretty sure she thought I was drunk, crazy, or in some sort of post-orgasm daze. But she seems to be warming to it. I hope so, at least.

"This is beautiful," Bella murmurs, glancing out the window at the rolling acreage that frames the winding gravel road leading to my parent's house. "Do they own all this?"

"Yep," I say with a nod. "This is where I grew up."

"Neat." She smiles and extends her arm out the window, letting the breeze run through her fingers.

We pull up to my childhood home at about a quarter after seven. I notice Emmett's SUV in the circular drive, but Alice and Jasper aren't here yet.

"Wow. What a house." The corners of Bella's eyes crinkle as she smiles. I kiss her temple and wrap my arm around her shoulders, guiding her up the brick path.

The two-story white farmhouse sits atop a gradual incline that gives it a great vantage of the valley below. Seeing it through Bella's eyes gives me a new appreciation for everything.

"So rural."

"Yeah," I remark. "My father doesn't like nosey neighbors."

"I guess that was never a problem out here."

"Nope."

My mother's vegetable garden sits proudly displayed in the front yard, and I notice several large, red tomatoes ripe and ready for picking. Most likely tonight's dinner will come straight from here. My mother is determined to impress Bella with a vegetarian feast, much to Emmett's chagrin.

As we approach the front door, I hear my brother's booming laugh coming from the backyard, so I detour us around the side.

"Yo, Ed!" Emmett calls out when he sees us emerge. "You've gotta try this shit."

"Emmett," my mother scolds good-naturedly. My parents sit with Rosalie and Emmett around the patio table. Rose waves at Bella, and the two women exchange a look of amusement.

"Sorry, Ma," he replies with a grin. "This stuff is really good."

Emmett smears something on a piece of baguette and shoves the whole thing in his mouth.

"What is it?" I ask, taking Bella's hand and tugging lightly.

Before he answers, Emmett chews and swallows. That's a first.

"Goat cheese and strawberry shi-stuff," he says with an apologetic glance at our mother.

"It's jam." Rosalie takes a sip of her red wine and laughs as Emmett takes another slice.

"My favorite," I reply, smirking. A quick glance to the side tells me Bella's trying hard not to make a face.

"Bella, dear!" My mother says, standing and coming over to us. She extends both of her hands, and Bella drops mine just a second before she's enveloped in a motherly hug.

"Hi Esme," Bella says. "Thanks so much for having me."

"Oh, none of that. It's our pleasure. Carlisle," she calls over her shoulder. "Look at who's here."

"Bella!" he exclaims, standing up from his hunched position. I roll my eyes internally when I notice the ridiculous knee-high, white socks he's wearing under his sandals. Along with the khaki shorts and matching shirt, he looks like a tour guide for the Lion Country Safari.

"Hi, Carlisle," Bella says, accepting his enthusiastic handshake. He gives me a quick, awkward hug, and my nostrils are assaulted by an alarming smell.

"What_ is_ that?" I ask, shaking my head to rid myself of the inhaled taste.

"What is what?" My parents look equally confused.

"That smell."

Bella surreptitiously pokes my side, her way of telling me to play nice.

My father sniffs his arm. "Oh, that? Natural mosquito repellent."

"What's it made out of, cow sh—poop?"

"Actually, yes," he says proudly. "Burnt cow dung. Just the extract, of course—completely sterile. I analyzed it myself in the lab."

"Lab?" I ask. This is news to me.

"Yes, in the shed. I'll give you a tour later, if you like."

Bella's eyebrows start to travel up her forehead, and I try not to die of mortification.

"Uh . . . okay."

From the patio table, I hear Rosalie's soft snicker.

"I wouldn't touch the stuff they sell at the store. Anything with DEET in it." My father shudders at the thought. "And you know that dung's effectiveness as a repellent is unparalleled."

Yeah, repelling everything in sight—mosquitoes, girlfriends.

"In Africa, the Masai burn the dung in their homes," he continues. "It's quite harmless."

Even as he speaks he doesn't seem quite convinced. I notice him surreptitiously squeeze a bit of antibacterial cleanser onto his palm.

"I could never burn . . . the dung myself. But it's amazing. Works like a charm."

He punctuates the statement with more hand sanitizer and vigorous rubbing.

"Is that so?" Bella asks, taking my father's arm and leading him back to the table. "How fascinating."

"Well, you see they begin with fresh manure . . ."

My mother snickers. "Your father's going through an African appreciation phase."

"A what?"

"It's . . . never mind. Anyway, I'm so pleased you brought Bella tonight. She's such a lovely girl," my mother says, placing her hand lightly on my arm. I'm still reeling from my father's most recent inanity.

"Yeah, she is," I agree, tearing my eyes away from the table and try not to think about what sort of embarrassing things he and Emmett could tell Bella tonight. There are so many stories . . . oh, God. Please.

Bella laughs, and I glance over at her. Feeling my gaze, she turns and gives me a smile and a wave before returning to a conversation I probably don't want to hear.

"You seem happy."

"I am. Weird, huh?" My mother's eyes get teary, and I look away, a little uncomfortable.

"Is it serious with you two?"

Even though the word "serious" should do all kinds of panic-inducing things, it doesn't. I just smile and shrug.

"Okay, honey. I'm not trying to pry. I'm just glad to see you smile."

"Thanks, Mom."

"Cullens!" Jasper and Alice emerge from the side of the house. Jasper lugs a twelve pack, and Alice cradles one of those giant bottles of crappy wine. Looks like it's shaping up to be one of those nights where we all get drunk and sleep in my parents' basement.

"Jazz!" Emmett calls out. "Dude. You've gotta try this shit over here! Stuff, I mean!"

"You boys swear too much," my mother says with a sigh, but a twinkle in her eye betrays her amusement.

"Hey, Edward," Alice says as she passes by.

"Hey," I reply with a slight nod.

"Who wants to get crunk?" Emmett grabs the bottle of wine from Alice, and Rose passes him a corkscrew.

"What does crunk mean?" my mother asks.

I just shake my head and follow her back to the table, taking my seat next to Bella, who immediately puts her hand on my knee. I take it, cupping it between mine.

"You didn't use any of that mosquito repellent, did you?" I tease.

"Just a little."

In all the commotion around us, no one seems to notice when I plant a little kiss under the shell of her ear.

"You're a liar. You still smell delicious"

The evening wears on, and my mother wows Bella with all manner of strange grain and vegetable salads. Of course, she placates the meat eaters with a plate of grilled bratwursts and burgers. Bella grimaces at me when I offer her a bite of my sausage.

"Later," she jokes.

"Not if they have anything to say about it," I say, gesturing towards our friends, who are quickly moving from buzzed to "crunk."

I sip my beer and smile, thinking about all the times we've crashed at my parents'. When we were in college, Jasper used to stay with us on holidays since his family lived so far away and he couldn't always afford the airfare to Texas. We'd, of course, have to sneak booze into the house since we were underage, and my parents don't really drink that often. Sometimes we snuck girls in, too. Good times.

Rosalie slaps at her arm and starts itching. "Dammit."

"Would you like to use some of my bug spray?" Dad offers, holding up an unmarked spritzer bottle.

"No, thanks. I'm . . . I'm good."

"Do you think mosquitoes can get drunk?" Emmett wraps his arm around Rose and examines the bite on her shoulder.

Alice laughs and shakes her head, taking another sip of wine. "What are you talking about?"

"Well, you know, if a mosquito bites someone who's been drinking, do you think the alcohol affects them?"

"I don't know, Emmett. Why don't you drink a little more and go stand naked in the field over there and find out." Jasper gestures towards the darkening meadow behind the house.

Bella grimaces. "Please, no. Seeing you naked once was enough."

I laugh and kiss her forehead. My parents watch us with bemused tolerance. After living thirty years with two boys, they've gotten used to our somewhat ridiculous and crass conversations.

"An interesting question, though, son," my father chimes in. "It would be worth investigating. There has to be documentation somewhere."

He looks up to the sky as if the answer might be read in the newly-appearing stars.

"This is what I'm saying," Emmett says with a grin, reaching for the bowl of baked beans; of which, he's already had several large helpings.

Finally, my father seems to give up on the drunken mosquito question. He pokes at the pile of brown rice salad on his plate. "I'll have to ask Alistair."

"Who's Alistair?" Bella asks me.

"He's a friend of my father's," I tell her. "He's an entomologist."

"Oh. Wow. I bet he's lots of fun at parties."

"You have no idea."

"No more, please, Emmett," Rose complains, wrinkling her nose. Emmett spoons a repulsive amount of brown sugar-syruped beans and bacon into his mouth.

"Nevah come befeen a man an his beans," Emmett says, playfully batting her hand away.

Alice murmurs her displeasure. "I am NOT sleeping in the same room with him tonight." For once, I have to agree with her. We'll all be lucky if we don't die from the impending gas attack.

"But I want to see your old bedroom." No one hears Bella's whisper in my ear, but the intention in her voice makes me forget about our surroundings in an instant. Her breath smells like lemon, rosemary, and wine. I wonder how she tastes right now. I'd like to find out . . .

"I'm afraid it no longer exists," I whisper.

"Why?"

"It's my dad's study now. And they converted Emmett's to a meditation room. If we're staying over, it's the basement for us."

Bella laughs lightly. "That's funny. Who meditates?"

"Who do you think?"

"Charlie kept my room just the same. There're still U2 posters on my wall."

"Really? I love U2."

Bella's face colors a bit, and I realize what I've said. It's not like she doesn't know - she's at least inferred it from the whole 'I want to make a beer and name it after you' thing - but I haven't actually said the words out loud. And now here I am saying it with an awkward, unintentional band reference. Her eyelids lower as she glances down at her partially eaten plate.

I snake my arm around her waist, trying to tune out our friends' raucous voices. When I lean my head down close to her face, I can see her blush deepen.

"I love you," I whisper, allowing my lips to lightly graze her ear. "I do."

Her face turns, and she looks at me with her large, dark eyes. Biting the inside of her cheek, she takes my hand and flattens it out on her thigh, high up near the crease. At first I think she wants me to touch her, but then she surprises me and flips my hand over, tracing out letters on my palm.

I . . . heart . . . you.

I laugh and pull her against my side, as close as our chairs will allow. It's ridiculous how much my pulse races with exultation. Pure and simple. It's fucking decided: I'm going dress shopping tomorrow.

"I heart you, too."

"What are you guys whispering about over there?" Alice asks, her eyes suddenly focused on us.

"Oh, nothing," Bella replies with a barely-contained grin. "I was just telling Edward about my old room in Forks." Various murmurs and ribald jokes pass around before my mother speaks up.

"Bella, tell us about where you're from. I've heard it's very rainy. Is that true?" My mother smiles encouragingly, obviously trying to turn the tide of conversation from the very silly and juvenile.

Bella nods. "It rains most of the time, either that or it's cloudy."

"It can be like that here. And you're from the western part of the state?"

"Yeah. We're pretty close to the coast. There's a lot of pine forests, not deciduous like here."

"The pollen counts must be astronomical," Dad remarks. "The last time I was in the Pacific Northwest I came down with a terrible case of hives . . . at first I thought it was leprosy. But, luckily, it was just the trees."

Bella nods, keeping her face serious. "Thank God for that."

"Our winters must be quite different," Mom says, giving my dad a look.

"Yes, that's true. But I love the snow. I think I'd miss it . . . if I left. What I love about Vermont is the weather here is so changeable. It can be hot and sunny, like today was, and just an hour later cool off in a rainstorm. I love the fall colors, of course."

"It is a lovely place. But do you miss home?"

Bella's quiet for a second, considering her answer.

"A little," she says. "I was just there, though, and I really wanted to be back here." She squeezes my thigh, and I smile, realizing she means me. She missed _me_.

"Did you fly?" my father asks. "Terrible, the recycled air in those planes. And let's not even discuss the nasty germs you can pick up from going through security barefoot." He mutters something else about lax air safety standards that I don't quite catch.

Bella smiles and nods during his diatribe, but I can only shake my head. My father hasn't flown since the early 80's.

"Yes, I flew, thanks to Alice. My dad just had pretty serious surgery, and Alice bought me a ticket so I could be with him. It was incredibly generous of her."

Alice rolls her eyes and looks at me. "You still haven't told her yet?"

All eyes latch on me, and I feel my cheeks heat with embarrassment.

"Alice," I say between gritted teeth. I knew our truce was too good to last.

"Tell me what?" Bella turns to me with a furrowed brow. "Edward?"

I'm just about to say something when I see realization dawn on her face, softening her features from worry to . . . love. "It was you, wasn't it?"

"Yes," I confess, fearful she's going to interpret it wrongly—like I'd wanted her out of the way. "You didn't want me to buy your ticket, and I . . . knew you had to be there so . . . I spoke to Alice and—"

Bella vaults out of her chair and climbs in my lap before I know what hit me. Her arms wrap around me tightly, and I close my eyes, trying not to get a hard on even as she squirms and kisses me soundly.

"Thank you," she whispers in my ear. "Thank you so much."

"It was nothing," I say gruffly, suddenly aware how silent it's become. Emmett is the only one still eating. He takes another bite of his burger.

"Awww. Ifn't vat sveet?"

I roll my eyes and turn my attention back to Bella, surprised and pleased by her reaction.

"Can you show me where the bathroom is, Edward?" she finally asks.

"Of course."

We disentangle ourselves as the others go back to conversing, trying not to draw too much attention to our departure.

I wonder if "bathroom" is our code word for making out. If it is, I'm certainly game.

Once we're inside the house, I realize Bella hasn't gotten the tour yet. I'm just about to suggest it, not sure if she really has to pee, when she takes my hand and drags me through the kitchen down the darkened hallway.

"Edward," she says softly, pressing her whole body against mine as I lean against the wall. She threads her hands through my hair and tugs, and then our mouths find each other. I let her lead, parting my lips and groaning when her tongue slides against mine. I feel the heat of her body through our clothes, and my hands move without my volition down her back to cup the curve of her ass. By the time we reluctantly break away, I'm panting and hard as a fucking rock. There's no way I can go back outside until I get this shit under control.

"What was that for?" I ask, feeling the soft down on her bare arms.

"You. That was one of the sweetest things anyone's ever done for me."

I can't see her face well, but her voice is sincere.

"What, the ticket? It wasn't any—"

"Shh!" She puts her hand to my lips and kisses me again, stopping my protest midsentence.

"You did it without wanting any credit . . . just because you cared. And I know you didn't want me to go. When we thought things might not go well."

I nod, burying my face in her hair.

"I'm sorry I lied to you."

"It's okay. I get why you did it. Just don't do it again," she adds in a mock-serious voice.

"I won't. . . . speaking of being truthful, can I ask you something?"

"Oh no. What?"

"When you started working at Cullen Creek . . . did you know me?"

"Did I know you?" she repeats slowly.

"Yeah. I mean. Did you remember me from when I used to go to Newton's . . . with . . ."

"With Victoria," she supplies.

"Yeah. _Her_."

"Everyone knows who you are, Edward. You're like a celebrity in Burlington." There's a playful tone to her voice, but I detect a hint of evasiveness.

"So you saw me there?"

Bella huffs and shoves me playfully.

"Could you be any more circuitous? What are you getting at, Edward?"

"I was just wondering if you noticed me . . . if you thought I was . . . cute."

"You want to know if I thought you were cute."

"Yes," I nod, feeling foolish.

"Of course I did. I have eyes, you know! I thought you were fucking hot, and I couldn't understand why that . . . _she_ . . . treated you like such garbage. The things I overheard pissed me off. And, of course, I was friends with Alice, so I got an earful from her."

I don't bother asking for details.

"So, when you applied for the job . . ."

"I wasn't trying to seduce you, Edward," she says softly. "If that's what you're worried about. I needed that job. It was just an added bonus I got a fuckhawt boss."

"Is that all I am to you?" I joke, clutching at my heart.

"No. You're more. So much more. Silly boy," she whispers, scratching my scalp lightly.

"Boy?"

"Man. My man."

"That's right," I nearly growl, spinning her around so it's her turn to be backed against the wall. I kiss the ever-loving fuck out of her, not caring that our swollen lips and disheveled hair will be a dead giveaway once we get back to the table.

We don't have to hide anymore. We're free.


	23. Epilogue

**14 months later**

_Burlington Recorder_

_October 12, 2011_

_People in the News_

Edward Cullen means business. As one-half of the visionary team behind one of the most popular craft breweries in the upstate Vermont Area, Cullen Creek Brewery and Pub, he and Emmett Cullen, his brother, hope to spread their micro-batch beers to the entire mid-Atlantic area.

Cullen Creek Brewery and Pub will open its second branch in Ithaca, New York in just two weeks, and Edward Cullen is certain of its success. "This is one of the bigger things we've done, but the response we've gotten from people in the area is astounding. They really want this. I'm optimistic."

That wasn't always the plan. When the Cullen brothers bought the run down building in downtown Burlington in 2002 and remodeled it into the Cullen Creek Pub, they were shocked by their almost instant success. "We used to brew beer in the back. We had a small distillery system, but after about a year we realized we needed more space," says Emmett Cullen. That's when the brothers purchased ten acres outside of town and built a full-scale brew facility. By 2009, however, the demand for their beer exceeded the building's capacity. One year later, the brewery underwent complete renovation, adding a tasting room and offering tours to the public most weekdays and weekends.

Almost ten years after they started brewing, the Cullen brothers are some of the most recognizable faces in Burlington. Their product output has increased dramatically, from two beer varieties in 2003 to seven today. The newest and most successful of these brews is Bella Brown, a deep mahogany American brown ale that was recently awarded a score of 98 by Beer Advocate—nearly perfect.

"I'm proud of it. I think it's the best beer we've done so far," Cullen remarked. The critics appear to agree. At 8.5% ABV, the sweet, malty, and low-hopped style was a hit at the Maine Festival this past June, where it won the judge's prize. Named after his fiancée Isabella Swan, a veterinary student at Cornell, the beer is available at local supermarkets with plans for further distribution pending.

Cullen thinks the new branch in Ithaca will do quite well. Just a half-mile from the Cornell University campus, he's counting on college traffic to make the venture successful. "Ithaca is a college town, like Burlington, but there are very few bars and we saw a great potential to do something there. The market is pretty open right now."

Once the pub opens on October 25th, Cullen plans to commute between the two cities, splitting his time between the Burlington and Ithaca operations. Ms. Swan, 24, originally from Forks, Washington, will oversee the Ithaca pub in his absence. "It's a wonderful opportunity for me and for Cullen Creek," said Swan.

The couple plans a summer wedding to be held on the brewery grounds in Burlington, where they met.

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**A/N: So there you have it, folks. The End. I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing it!  
**

**So many people to thank . . . **

**I couldn't have written this story without Mac214. Her advice and sharp eye made this story what it was. I'm so grateful for her wit and strict no-bs policy. **

**DiamondHeart78 and xxxhelllokittyxxx preread many chapters and are wonderful friends. Love you ladies!**

**LolyPop82 made my awesome banner (available on my ffn profile); she's also a great friend and loyal reader. xox**

**Thanks to SalixCaprea for starting the Twilighted forum and to the ladies at the Twic Club for hosting a very fun discussion of SB! **

**And so many of you awesome ladies wrote reviews of Strange Brew: Coldplaywhore, LaMomo, Ayfbird, Nitareality, Kassiah, Brig, DeeDreamer—I wish I could smooch each and every one of you. Thanks for giving your time and energy to pimping this story. **

**To those who rec'd Strange Brew in your author's notes, on Twitter, and on various fic sites—thank you! The word of mouth about this story really made all the difference. You are what makes this fandom a wonderful, dynamic place to be. **

**And to all my readers—I read and treasured each of your reviews, even when I didn't have time to respond. Thank you for sharing your thoughts and letting Beerward into your hearts. **

**I heart you all so much. **

**In other news, after I finish up A Quiet Fire I'm taking a break from fic writing, but I have a plot bunny that's certain to emerge sometime this summer. Until then, take care!**


	24. Fandom 4LLS OuttakeFuturetake

**Story: Strange Brew**

**Author: Magnolia 822**

**Rating: NC-17**

**This outtake takes place a year after the last body chapter of _Strange Brew_, and about two months before the newspaper epilogue. It was originally written for the Fandom for Leukemia and Lymphoma Society compilation.  
**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

_August, 2011_

With all of the boxes littering the floor of Bella's bedroom, it's nearly impassable. I try to stay out of her way, lounging on the bed as she sorts through the contents of her closet, piling clothes into a mound to give away.

"What about this one?" she asks, holding up a green something—I can't tell if it's a shirt or a dress. It's awfully short.

I shrug, and she rolls her eyes. "Why do I bother asking you these things?"

"I have no idea."

"I haven't worn this in years." She frowns down at the green thing in her hands, a strand of hair coming loose from her bun.

"Toss it."

"You're right."

She discards the garment into the Goodwill pile and moves on to the next.

Even though there's really nothing for me to do, I enjoy just watching her. In a little over a week, Bella will be moving to Ithaca for veterinary school, and I'll be splitting my time between there and Burlington. Everything's been decided for months now, and with the plans for the new pub near Cornell coming along, I shouldn't feel as melancholy as I do. Not that I'd ever let Bella know that—this is her future, her career, and there's no way I want to mess it up by being an emo asshole. I'll see her all the time, I remind myself. It's only a five-hour drive.

Five hours, though, when you're used to having someone live five minutes away—that's tough.

A few months ago I finally sold the old house on the lake and got an apartment in town, close to the pub. And to Bella. For the first time in almost ten years I feel perfectly content—except for this move.

Bella sighs and tosses something else onto the pile, then picks her way through the boxes toward the bed, her shoulders slouched with exhaustion. She rests her head on my chest and yawns.

"Packing blows," she murmurs. I wrap my arms around her and stroke her back.

"I know. You should take a break. Wanna get dinner?"

She lifts her head and smiles. "That sounds good."

"I told Em we might stop by. We can order Chinese or something."

"Good idea," she murmurs. "There's no way I feel like cooking in this heat."

I lean forward to capture her lips in a kiss before we stand. She tastes like cinnamon gum. The stuff is horrible, but on her lips it's awesome. I kiss her again, more deeply this time, and she laughs, swatting me on the arm before pulling away.

"Later, cowboy. I'm starving." I will down the slight stirring in my pants and nod. Food first, sex later.

After giving Emmett a quick call, we say goodbye to Bella's roommates and head outside into the muggy late summer air.

We've already signed a lease on a two bedroom in Ithaca. I won't be there half the time, so it seemed stupid to get separate apartments. And of course, one of the reasons I went ahead with the expansion venture was to be close to Bella. When she got into the best vet school in the country, both of us knew there was no choice—she had to accept it. But ending our relationship wasn't an option either. I love her too fucking much to ever let her go.

Revving up my truck and backing down the drive, Bella fiddles with her iPod, turning it to a song we both like. I smile as she braces her feet in the dashboard, singing along softly as the wind from the opened window whips her hair.

There's something else I've had on my mind ever since a conversation I had with Emmett.

I want to ask Bella to marry me.

True, my first marriage only ended a little over a year ago—and fucking badly. But I'm not jaded enough to think every relationship is destined for failure. Not anymore. Maybe I'm co-dependent like Emmett, my brother-_cum_-therapist, says. But I don't care. I want to spend the rest of my life making the girl next to me happy because that's how she makes me. It's that simple.

I'm just fucking scared out of my mind she'll say no. On top of that, I don't want her to think I'm doing it out of fear of her moving, which is why I'm going to wait until she's settled.

I groan and grip the steering wheel; Bella's frown reveals her concern.

"Are you okay?" She reaches out to rub my leg.

"Yeah, fine. Just thinking about the rezoning hassle," I lie, forcing a smile. She squeezes me again just as we pull up to Emmett's.

"Okay. But you've been a little weird these past couple of days."

That much is true. I nod.

"I don't like to think about it, either," she says softly.

"It won't—" I'm just about to spew some bullshit about our separation not being forever, that we're making it work, when Bella cuts me off by nearly climbing into my lap. Her lips are on my neck, then next to my ear.

"I love you. Nothing will change that. Ever."

I echo the sentiment, my voice gruff. Bella smiles against my lips and kisses me, and I let her guide, probing her tongue into my mouth. We're like that for a few minutes at least, kissing like teenagers at a drive in until the sound of a throat clearing sends Bella reeling back to her side of the truck.

Emmett stands at the window with a huge grin on his face.

"You kids are about to get arrested for public indecency." He holds up a paper bag. "Wanna eat, or are you staying out here all night?"

"Eat now," Bella says.

"Sex later," I whisper, so only she can hear.

/SB\\\

A month or so later, Bella's settled in the Ithaca place and is two weeks into vet school. I drive up for a long weekend to check on the construction of the pub and for another, more important reason. It's my girl's birthday, and, with a little help from Alice, I have a surprise planned.

The new apartment is spacious and filled with furniture I'd insisted on buying. Ever since the fiasco with Victoria, Bella's been wary about money. She worries I'll think that's what she's after. I finally convinced her a king-sized bed would be infinitely better than sleeping on the ratty futon she intended to bring from her old house—and managed to get her to pick out a new sofa and TV while we were at it. We agreed I wouldn't go crazy spoiling her, and she wouldn't refuse necessities—though she assured me with all the work she'd been doing, TV watching wouldn't be a high priority.

It's the first time I've seen her since I helped her move in—the longest we've been separated since she first started working at Cullen Creek almost a year and a half ago. And I've hated it. I've missed her every waking moment.

When I open the door, I'm almost bowled over by an armful of Bella.

I grunt, laughing as she wraps her legs around my waist and peppers my face with kisses.

"You're here," she says finally, pulling back. We stare at each other, grinning like idiots.

"I'm here. I missed you."

"I fucking missed you, Edward Cullen."

Bella hops down and pulls me the rest of the way inside, shutting the door behind us. We're all mouths and arms and hands, touching and tasting what we've missed for a month. She doesn't waste any time, palming my dick through my jeans once before unbuttoning them. And hell, if she's raring to go, so am I.

Her hand reaches into my jeans, and I sigh when her hand starts to rub. My cock is very interested in the proceedings since the only action he's gotten recently has been with my right hand. And compared to this, my hand is a poor, poor substitute.

"Shit, Bella," I pant, dropping kisses against the side of her face, and then it's my turn to fumble with pants and buttons until I can feel her, see her soft tits and firm ass.

"Do you want to go to the bed?" I ask, bending to suck a nipple into my mouth.

"No. Fuck me here."

She turns and presents herself to me, bracing her arms against the wall; I slip a finger inside her pussy and damn, she's ready.

"Edward." She makes an impatient noise and wriggles her ass, and I don't waste any more time. I thrust inside with a grunt, feeling her draw me in, welcoming me home. The pace I set is fast because apparently that's how Bella wants it tonight. Later there'll be time for making love, but we're both desperate and needy and this certainly won't take long.

I hold her firmly, unable to tear my eyes away from the sight below as my cock slips in and out of her pussy. Bella starts to work her clit, and I push her hand away, wanting to do it myself even if my rhythm falters. I drive into her fully and hold her tight, rubbing until her moans get louder. By now I know all her tells. She leans her head back, eyes wide and mouth open, and I kiss her as she starts to come against my hand.

The frenzy of it all is enough to make me come too; with just one more snap of my hips, my cock starts to pulse and my world explodes. I'm pretty sure I blather something idiotic and pornographic, which shames me because I should be telling her how precious she is to me, but she smiles. She already knows.

/SB\\\

Alice assured me the simple, half-carat diamond I have in my pocket would be perfect for Bella, but I'm starting to have my doubts. We're washing up after dinner, and I palm it again, worried that it's too small. I certainly could have afforded a much fancier ring, but Alice was adamant. She knows Bella well, and a helluva lot more than I know about jewelry, so I trusted her. In any case, it's too late now.

My heart pounds as Bella sets the dishwasher and straightens. She's wearing one of my old t-shirts and nothing else, and she looks amazing. Happy.

"I'm so glad you're here," she says again, wrapping her arms around my neck. "What do you wanna do?"

So many things, but one eclipses them all.

"You want a beer?" I ask.

She gives me a teasing smile. "I have some Bella Brown in the fridge."

"Mmm. My favorite. But I brought something special along. You go sit, and I'll bring it to you."

Once Bella's out of the kitchen, my hands shake as I fetch the special homebrew from the fridge. It's something I created just for this occasion—a dark chocolate raspberry stout that'll go perfectly with the devil's food cake I made.

Feeling more nervous than I ever have in my life, I drop the ring into the stout glass and pour the beer, hoping she doesn't accidentally drink it or something. Wouldn't that just be a wonderful story to tell our kids? If he could see me now, my father would have a field day lecturing me on choking hazards or the potential for indigestion caused by small metal objects.

I hold the glass up, pleased. The ring is barely visible through the dark beer, just as I planned.

Wait, did I just think about kids? What the fuck. I'm getting a little ahead of myself since she hasn't even said yes yet.

Shaking my head to clear it, I finish my preparations and retrieve the cake, wondering how the hell I'm supposed to light the candles since I forgot matches. I frantically search the kitchen and come up with nothing—but then I remember the gas stove. Muttering to myself, I light a skewer from one of the veggie kabobs we ate for dinner and make quick work of the candles—it actually works quite well. And then, arranging the cake and the beer on a tray, I carefully make my way toward the living room.

Bella's faced away reading a magazine when I enter. I clear my throat, and she turns.

"Happy Birthday." I decide to spare Bella the song—no one really needs to hear my singing voice.

Her eyes widen when she sees what I've done. "Oh my God! Did you bake?"

"Maybe just a little."

The cake doesn't look too bad, if I do say so myself, but Bella needs to blow out these candles before they burn down to nubs.

I take slow steps, willing myself not to trip and ruin everything. Finally, I make it to the coffee table and set the tray down. "Make a wish."

She smiles and closes her eyes, then sweeps her hair back and leans forward, blowing out all of the candles in one breath.

"This looks awesome. And this beer - did you make this, too?"

"I did, indeed. It's a raspberry chocolate stout. I thought you'd like it."

"I'm so spoiled today," Bella says, sticking her finger into the frosting and tasting it. "Mmm."

I hand her glass, making sure to give her the correct one, and settle down on the couch next to her. The way my heart is pounding, I'm sure it's audible in the room, but I try to relax. It'll be a while before she finishes her beer.

"So tell me about your classes," I say, reaching for my glass. "How's the infectious disease one going?"

"It's going to be tough . . . and really, it's kinda gross. Just believe me when I tell you you don't want to see the brain of a mad cow."

"I would never look at Alice's brain." Even though we're friendlier now, old habits die hard.

She rolls her eyes at me and shakes her head. "It's so freaking weird how much the professor reminds me of your dad, though. They would get along so well."

We talk for a while about school, seguing into discussion of the pub. Bella's goes down there a couple of times a week, and everything is going well; we'll definitely be set for the late October opening date. Bella loves the beer and the cake, and I try to eat and drink my share, though my stomach is tied in knots.

"How is the fam, anyway?" she asks, licking a bit of frosting from her fork before taking another bite. "You never talk about them on the phone."

Everyone back home knows what the plan for this weekend is, and they're all anxiously awaiting the news. Especially my parents. Of course, I can't tell Bella any of that.

"Well, my father's latest crusade is against moisture-wicking fabric—he's convinced it causes skin cancer. Don't ask me why."

"Hmm . . . that's an . . . interesting theory."

"It isn't, believe me."

When we finish our cake, I set our plates aside and draw Bella into my arms. She nestles into my side and sips her beer; I try not to eye it, knowing she's getting closer.

She's quiet for a minute, and I clear my throat, knowing the time has come and wondering if she can feel my heart rattling around in my chest.

"Bella . . . I wanted . . . " I had a whole speech planned in my head, but none of that seems appropriate now.

"Yeah?" She turns around so she's facing me, her eyes serious.

"Did you like your beer?"

Her brow furrows, and she looks down at the mostly empty glass in her hand. "Um, yeah. It was so good. Didn't I tell you that?"

"Yeah . . ."

I'm pretty sure I'm sweating now; I have no idea what I'm doing. She was supposed to drink the whole beer and find the ring, and now I worry she's not going to drink it, or that if she does, she'll down it in one gulp and choke. This was a stupid idea . . . this was . . .

"What's going on, Edward?" she asks. "You don't look so good."

Before I know what I'm doing, I'm off the couch and kneeling. Her eyes grow large, and she clutches her glass tighter.

"I love you," I tell her. "These past few weeks, it's . . . I've missed you. And I realize I never want to spend this much time apart again—ever. When you're not with me . . . I'm not home." I whisper the last words, worrying when I see tears forming in her eyes. What if I've said the wrong thing?

"I feel the same," she says in a quavering voice. "I hate being away from you."

"Do you want to finish your beer now?"

"What? I just don't . . ." Her protest trails off as comprehension starts to dawn. She looks down at her glass with new eyes before draining it in a slow, careful sip.

The ring sits at the bottom of the glass. Bella reaches in and pulls it out, looking back to me with a face full of disbelief . . . "Oh my God. Are you . . . is this?"

"Marry me, Bella." I can barely get the words out—that's how much of a sap I am.

"Yes," she nods, setting the glass aside. "Hell, yes." She leans forward, the anxiety replaced with the most beautiful smile I've ever seen.

I don't know who reaches for who first, and it doesn't matter . . . she's in my arms, and she wants me. She whispers_ yes_ again.

I have her now. And I'll never let her go.


End file.
